


The Hierophant

by carrieonfighting



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Murder Mystery, Plotty, Slow Burn, Tarot, bamf!shane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-08-13 22:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 60,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrieonfighting/pseuds/carrieonfighting
Summary: “So kids, for the last week, we’ve been discussing the fundamentals of duelling.” Shane lounged easily against his desk, robes hanging open haphazardly. Ryan snorted to himself, sitting at the back of the huge room, and he saw Shane’s ear twitch.“So today, now that I have a partner, it seems like a fantastic time to demonstrate!” He announced. It was Ryan’s turn to twitch. “Professor Bergara is your new Divination teacher, he’ll be starting his classes after the weekend. Please stand up, Professor.”“E-excuse me?” Ryan said, turning terribly red.In which Ryan sees the future and moves to Scotland, meets his hero and isn't impressed, hears strange noises in the night, and interrogates some ghosts. After all these years, the castle still keeps its secrets.





	1. The Castle on the Lake

**Author's Note:**

> My therapist told me to do this so I could talk to her about real stuff instead of just complaining about JK Rowling. 
> 
> I've published enough now that I can confidently say I have a "drill", and you know the drill - there will be no update schedule, yes I'm afraid of commitment, who wants to know. 
> 
> Graphic violence warning probably isn't warranted but I figured I'd stay on the safe side...I'll be putting more specific warnings where needed. 
> 
> This is probably the most ambitious thing I've ever done, and I appreciate anyone who's willing to stick through it with me. I really hope you enjoy it. Shout out to the discord for listening to me complain 24/7, particularly Bee and Lud for giving it a read over before I started publishing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan gets his days mixed up, and the cards are never wrong

The sun was setting over the forest as Ryan trod heavily along the dirt road, suitcase floating dutifully behind him. It was warm for a Scottish evening, or so the old man at the train station had told him; Ryan was shivering in his overcoat, longing for the California sun again.

There was no denying that Scotland was pretty, though. He took a deep breath, feeling the connection to his suitcase, the ancient magic soaking into the ground and the trees. A big difference to the city.

Britain had been a whirlwind of new sensations – from the airport to the industrial grit and blood of King’s Cross, breathing in the millennia of the city, and from there to the rolling fields of the countryside giving way to crags and glens as they had come further north. Scotland was wilder, more capricious than the magic in London. Maybe Ryan was biased, from his presupposed notions about the country.

He rounded a corner, and the lake opened up in front of him, glittering in the evening sun. The castle squatted on a crag at the other side, looking out to the mountains with a vaguely lazy air of something that no doubt it would outlive Ryan. It was huge, ornate, and still _fucking miles away, what the fuck?_

There had been nobody there to meet him at the train station, and so he had set off walking by himself. He’d been informed in no uncertain terms that it was impossible to apparate into the grounds, and he couldn’t see the gates.

Nothing to do but press on.

He reached the gates just as true night fell, the sun finally vanishing below the horizon and taking the last vestiges of warmth with it. They were twice as tall as he was, with stone boars sitting on the wall at either side. They were also shut fast, and there was nobody in sight.

“Um, hello?” He called, strangely unwilling to touch the wrought iron. His instincts warned him away.

One of the stone boars tipped its head down to look at him. “Good evening. Awful late to be wandering around the forest.”

“Holy shit,” Ryan leapt back from the gates, searching frantically for the source of the noise before finally spotting the boar. His luggage fell to the ground with a thump.

“Language,” The boar sniffed, ruffling its wings – _wings?_ \- with an odd grinding noise. “What are you up to?”

“I, uh,” Ryan stammered. “Professor McGonagall?”

“What about her?” The boar reminded him terribly of his abuelo, but with a snout and a British accent. Something in the way his eyes glinted.

“She invited me here. I’m supposed to be, uh, teaching.”

“Really? I’d rather think they’d hire someone who could speak fluent English.”

Ryan flinched, almost involuntarily. This was the start of a new life; he didn’t need to be reminded of negative energies he’d left on the other side of the Atlantic. “Am I gonna stay out here in the cold all night then?”

“No, of course not.” The boar sighed. “I’ve sent word to the janitor, he’s on his way.”

Sure enough, a lantern was bobbing on the other side of the gates, and soon enough a figure came into view. For a hot minute, Ryan thought perhaps Death itself had come for him, but no – it was just an exceptionally old, exceptionally _dirty_ man with a hunched back and absolutely no teeth.

“Hello, hello, you must be Professor Bergara.” He slurred. “Terribly sorry, but we were expecting you tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, gathering up his luggage from the dirt with a wave of his wand. A singular suitcase, all his worldly possessions. It wasn’t worth getting upset over.

A courtyard surrounded by a covered walkway, ivy rustling in a light breeze, only pinpricks of light in windows to suggest an outline of the castle towering overhead. Ryan craned his head back, more distracted by the extraordinary array of stars in the clear sky overhead than anything. You couldn’t get that in Los Angeles.

“Howasyerjerney?” The old man – he had introduced himself as Filch on the walk up the hill – mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“How was your journey?”

“Oh, uh, fine. Long.”

A tall, thin woman wearing a tall, thin hat was waiting for them at the top of the steps, silhouetted against imposing wooden doors. Ryan could feel the cobbles under his feet vibrating with centuries of students thundering past.

He remembered the cramped tarot shop in Los Angeles, the place where dreams went to die. Okay, harsh. The place he’d ground to a halt for three years.

_“Where do I go from here? How do I best apply myself?”_

_The Ace of Wands – new beginnings, ambition, a leap of faith. The Emperor – competence, achievement. He’d always been drawn to the Hierophant, though he wondered if he was worthy of it._

He had the job, he could relax. A deep breath, a new life – the cards never lied. It couldn’t come soon enough.

“Mr Bergara!” Professor McGonagall, vaguely familiar from the Floo conversation they had shared a month earlier, clapped her hands together. “I hope you can forgive us for the mix-up.”

“It’s all fine,” Ryan said. “I got to see the forest.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate!” McGonagall, gesturing him to follow her into the bowels of the castle. In her long, velvet robes, she looked like she belonged perfectly in place. Ryan only owned one pair of robes, and he was wearing them, but he still felt out of place. Maybe it was the no-maj hair-gel tucked in his suitcase, or the hole in his sleeve. He’d bought these for his graduation.

“I must say, I look forward to hearing all about Ilvermorny.” McGonagall was chirping, the light Scottish brogue only a little grating. Ryan didn’t bother to correct her. “We don’t have the pleasure of many Americans at Hogwarts. Now I think of it, having two on staff is unprecedented-”

“Two?” Ryan interrupted without thinking and cursed himself.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow, no doubt. Your room is just down here.”

The castle was physically silent, the only sound McGonagall’s tapping shoes, Ryan’s shuffling footsteps and Filch hobbling along behind. But Ryan could feel it, in his elbows and quickening down his spine, the sound of children talking and yelling and crying. It was soaked into the stone walls.

“Can we offer you any kind of refreshment? I can’t imagine you’ve had any supper.”

“Uh, yeah, something to eat would be great,” Ryan said, still distracted by the stone ceiling overhead. He wasn’t making a good first impression; wrong day, patched robes, no eye-contact. Bad form.

“I’ll send a house elf up to the tower,” McGonagall said, and Ryan whipped his head round.

“I can get it myself,” He said, adding “thank you,” as an afterthought.

“Goodness, no, the kitchens are miles away from the North Tower,” She said, still briskly leading them through winding corridors. Ryan was going to get immediately, hopelessly lost.  
Eventually, as Ryan’s feet were finally starting to give way, they arrived at the end of a long corridor, where a ladder lead up to a trapdoor.

“Your classroom is up there, and your rooms will be just beyond that.” McGonagall swept to a halt at the bottom of the ladder. “Fair warning, most of the furnishings are left over from the previous occupant of the post and she was…rather eccentric.”

“As long as there’s somewhere to sleep, I am good.” Ryan assured her, looking up the ladder with trepidation. There was no way he was going to manage this with dignity.

The classroom was nice enough, with small tables dotted here and there instead of desks, a large fireplace, and huge windows facing the mountains. Ryan tried to imagine it full of students and failed. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be teaching Divination, he would have laughed in their face.

Just off the classroom was a small office with a writing desk and empty bookshelves. Ryan didn’t own any books; he’d have to get a hold of some before he had any students in here. The bedroom was hung with faded drapes in various patterns, that exploded with dust when Ryan even brushed them. The bed was massive, an old-fashioned four-poster. There was no shower in the bathroom, only a claw-footed tub. He stared at himself in the clouded mirror over the sink and shook his head, like it would clear the bags from under his eyes. Nope, Stressed Ryan still stared back at him.

He pulled his robes off, thankful to be rid of the itch, and collapsed facedown on the bed. He hoped he didn’t have an asthma attack in his sleep; he wasn’t sure if there was a spell to avoid those.

He’d forgotten to shut the curtains, and so he was woken by the sun in his eyes at an ungodly hour. He fumbled in his robes, discarded on the floor, and checked his watch. 7.30am.

He splashed his face in the old handbasin in the bathroom, somehow full of water without his instruction, and turned to see a silvery, incorporeal cat waiting for him.

“Jesus!” He leapt backwards, clutching his towel to his bare chest, like he cared if a Patronus saw him naked.

“Good morning, Professor Bergara!” The cat chirped. “Breakfast starts at 8.00, sharp.” It turned and prowled away, straight through the closed door.

What the fuck was he going to wear? Could he wear his robes for the second day in a row? 

These fucking Brits and their traditions – in Cali, wizards dressed like normal people. Ryan picked his robes up and de-wrinkled them, and then turned them dark brown instead of purple. It took him three goes, but he managed it eventually. If McGonagall looked closely, she would notice they were the same, but he didn’t think she would look closely.

He thought for a minute, then put on a button down and khakis underneath the robes. He could test the waters, and if people didn’t take to it, he could get more robes as soon as his salary came in.

He wasn’t sure what teachers did when there weren’t any students. He supposed he should plan some lessons.

Of course, he was going to be late for breakfast, because the minute he stepped round the corner from the corridor with his trapdoor in it, he was utterly lost. What a waste of time.

“Hoo, you’re an unfamiliar face,” A voice said in his ear, and he just about peed himself for the third time in 24 hours. The paintings. The fucking paintings were talking to him.

“Hello,” Ryan said, trying not to show too much wariness.

“Too old to be a student, but a very young teacher,” The oil priest looked down at him, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Divination,” Ryan said, almost reaching out a hand for the man to shake before checking himself.

“Oh gosh,” The priest’s face was carefully neutral. “Now, are you struggling to get to the Great Hall? Can I point you in the right direction?”

“Yes, please,” Ryan sighed gratefully, hurrying in the direction the priest pointed him.


	2. The Ex-Auror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan has some strange encounters with wizards, and makes a vow

The stairs were entirely uneventful, and Ryan certainly did not cling to the banisters, or sob like a child when he felt them move for the first time.

He’d read Hogwarts: A History when he got the job, alright, so any accusations of being underprepared could fuck off. He knew what to expect, but it was entirely different seeing it in person, from the platform at King’s Cross to the ceiling in the Great Hall.

He was so busy staring up at the blue sky overhead that he ran straight into a solid chest without seeing it.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I should have looked where I was going-”

“That’s a familiar accent.” A low voice said, and Ryan’s head snapped up. Tall.

“You’re American.” He said.

“Uh, yeah,” The tall person, a pale man with wild brown hair and well-fitted robes, grinned. “I guess I am.”

“Good morning, Professor Bergara, I see you’re making yourself acquainted!” Professor McGonagall swept up behind him. She was wearing the same robes and hat as last night. Maybe Ryan could get away with only having one set of robes after all. “Professor Madej teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Madej reached out a hand to shake, and Ryan took it on autopilot, distracted by the onslaught of different cues he got from him. There was the fluffy hair, oddly cut, the clearly expensive robes, the large hands, the way his eyes narrowed in on Ryan with a hyper focus that didn’t match the cheeky smile and the hunched shoulders. He had a tension about him.

He glanced at Professor McGonagall and saw what he always saw – so he wasn’t losing his touch. Madej was a new phenomenon, one that Ryan was struggling to get a good read on.

The name Madej was ringing bells. He was pretty sure they were one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but specifically something about Shane was niggling at him.

“It’s a pleasure, Professor,” He said.

“Ryan.” He said. “Uh, call me Ryan. Not quite used to the Professor thing, ha.”

“Fair enough.” Madej said. “Call me Shane.”

“Professor Bergara is Sybil’s replacement.”

“Oh! Divination!” Madej said, with a look that Ryan only recognised too well. “That’s…great.”

“Yeah, it is,” Ryan said, trying desperately not to sound defensive. “I can’t wait to get started.”

He attended a “staff meeting” with the entire faculty – McGonagall sitting at the head of the table in the Great Hall like she was presiding over court, the eclectic colours of the other teachers creating a mild ache behind Ryan’s eyes.

Madej quietly slid into the seat next to him, shucking off his dark green robes to reveal a white shirt and dark vest. It looked expensive, especially compared to Ryan’s holey corduroy. It was fine. His salary would be arriving soon.

“Professor Bergara,” McGonagall said, and his head snapped up. “How are you finding the syllabus for Divination?”

“It’s good, it’s fine,” Ryan said, swallowing heavily. “Can’t wait to get started!”

“I thought perhaps it would be a good idea to push back your classes for a week, and for you to sit in on other teachers to get an idea of how we teach here. Of course, each staff member has their own style, but I feel there are some overarching themes in our approach to pupils. We are a quality institution, after all.” She sipped her tea primly.

“Yeah, no, yeah,” Ryan said, bobbing his head enthusiastically. He felt Madej shudder next to him, and whipped round to see him stifling a laugh. If that was how he wanted to be…fine.

Once the meeting was done, Ryan felt a tugging at his sleeve, and turned to see Madej looming over him.

“I’m sorry if it looked like I was laughing at you,” He explained, the low Midwestern drawl strangely comforting to Ryan. It was good to hear a familiar accent again. “Uh, would you like to have a drink? Would be good to get to know the other millennial in the school.”

“Do wizards know what millennials are?” Ryan asked, without thinking. He was gonna have to kill that instinct before he had to get up in front of class.

“Yeah.” Shane frowned at him. “You just…why did you say wizards like you aren’t one?”

“I didn’t.”

“I thought you kinda did.”

“Well, that’s your problem, bud.”

Shane burst into startled laughter, and Ryan rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, Professor.” He said. “I’ve been…stressed out.”

“Yeah, I remember when I started teaching too. No picnic.”

“I’ll take you up on the drink, if you’ll still have me.”

The Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom was considerably larger than Ryan’s, with proper desks, proper bookshelves, proper diagrams of magical creatures on the walls – proper everything. He frowned as Madej led him past the classroom and into his office, where he rummaged in a cabinet. The walls were lined with books on two sides, and there were some framed newspaper clippings on the third.

Madej emerged clutching a bottle of wine and two dusty glasses, which he scourged with a quick flick of his wand. Ryan watched the way his fingers curled expertly around the dark wood and felt a stab of envy in his gut.

He sidled over to the clippings, purely out of curiosity, and felt his jaw drop.

“Hang on. You’re Shane Madej.” He’d known that the name was familiar, and he hadn’t remembered it at the time. Stupid, really, to not realise how significant it was.

“Yeah,” Madej said, looking up from the wine. “Didn’t Minerva introduce us?”

Ryan pointed to the clipping. “You caught the Kinrossshire Ripper? And Amycus Carrow! You took down the Zodiac Killer, for fuck’s sake, and you’re only what? 33?” Shane waved his wand again and drew up two well-stuffed armchairs. Generally, the room was nice, but impersonal – aside from the clippings, there was really very little that indicated the office as his.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” He shrugged, flopping down in a chair and offering Ryan a glass. “That was a while ago now.” He stretched out his long legs easily, familiarly; somebody used to taking up space.

“God, you’re like. One of the best Aurors in the country. In the world.” Ryan said, aware that he was acting weird and…fanboyish.

“Pshaw,” Shane said, flapping a hand at him. “It wasn’t a big deal, really.”

“I dunno, dude, it seems like a pretty big deal to me.”

“I’m surprised you’ve heard of me, coming from the States, and all.”

“I, uh…I like reading about true crime.” Ryan finally unstuck and sat down opposite him. “And, well, the community as a whole is still kinda Euro-centric. Lots of immigrants.”

“Not many in the opposite direction, though,” Madej said, taking a sip of his wine. Ryan followed suit. He didn’t know shit about wine, but judging by Madej’s robes, and the books bound in pristine leather on the shelves opposite, this was good stuff.

“It was time for a change of scenery,” Ryan shrugged. “I could ask you the same.”

“I came here when I was eleven,” Madej said. “My parents were extremely eager for me to attend Hogwarts. A family tradition.”

“Oh boy,” Ryan muttered.

“Oh boy is right,” Madej said. “So, uh. Divination?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, eying him warily. “What about it?”

“I guess I’m asking…why?”

“I’m good at it.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m sorry?” Ryan shifted in his chair, bringing his feet in and hunching his shoulders in, and Madej responded in kind – sitting up and leaning towards him eagerly.

“I just mean, what does being good at Divination look like?”

“I know exactly what’s going to happen. Forever. I’ve seen the future.” Ryan said, pressing his lips together to keep the bite from his voice.  
“Really?!”

“No, obviously not.” He snapped, getting up and pacing.

“Chill out, pal.” Madej leaned back again, a strangely smug smile on his face. “For real, can you see the future?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah.” Ryan said, moving over to the bookshelf and reading the titles. Some of them were in Latin, or Greek, or just weird unrecognisable symbols that floated and swirled and made his eyes hurt, but he pretended like they meant something to him. “It’s seeing the future, but also…listening to yourself. Understanding people, understanding patterns.”

“That’s, uh, admirable.” Madej said, and Ryan whipped around. He was examining his nails nonchalantly.

“You think this is all bullshit.” Ryan said.

“No, no.” Madej said, taking a careful sip of his wine. “Of course not.”

“Yeah, you clearly do.”

“Look, Professor, I try to keep an open mind, but if you’d met the last Divination teacher you’d understand why I’m sceptical about the whole thing.”

Ryan didn’t bother correcting him on the Professor thing. “Well, you better watch out. I’m gonna show all of you.”

“Oh, for real?” Madej quirked an eyebrow ironically, infuriatingly. “Sounds great.”

“You’ll see.” Ryan said, narrowly avoiding shaking his fist at the man. He was painfully aware of how red he was going. Before he could dig himself any deeper, he turned and left. Madej didn’t bother getting out of his chair.

On his way back to the tower, he ran into a tall woman with black hair. She looked him up and down with a suspicious sneer, before she realised who he was and stuck a hand out in greeting.

“Lara Borden. Transfiguration. I hope you have a pleasant time here at Hogwarts.”

She was as tall as Ryan, wearing sweeping black robes and with her hair tied back in a severe knot, emphasising the point of her pale face.

“Hi,” Ryan said, shaking the hand.

“Did I see you in Professor Madej’s room?”

“Uh…yeah,”

“I would choose your friends wisely, Mr Bergara.” She said, without letting go of his hand. “The Madej family are notorious, and their youngest son in particular…has a dark past.”

“Is – is Shane the youngest son?”

“Yes.” She gazed solemnly with beady eyes.

“Well. Thanks. I guess.” Ryan extricated his hand from her grip, with difficulty, and hurried back to his rooms.


	3. An Unexpected Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan does a lot of cleaning, and finds himself somewhat humiliated.

He spent the next week, meals aside, alone in his office. McGonagall had shoved a stack of books into his arms and told him it was the third-year syllabus. He had no clue how he was supposed to teach the OWL students. There weren’t any NEWT students this year.

So, he tore all the dusty drapes out of the bedroom and the classroom, he transfigured the little round tables into proper desks, he cleaned the windows so the room was far brighter. He got his No-Maj clothes absolutely filthy, and he washed them in the sink in the bathroom, because apparently British wizards could all just _do_ laundry spells. He was too afraid to ask anyone else whether there were laundry machines in Hogwarts, and at any rate he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“You know, young man, that you could just do a scouring spell on those?”

“I’d rather not.” Ryan muttered, then looked around frantically. There was a painting at the back of the room that he hadn’t noticed before – a young woman with wildly curly dark hair, and a squishy, elfin kind of face. She was dressed in dark robes, against a plain brown background, in a plain brown frame.

“Are they specially enchanted?” The young woman enquired politely. Ryan gathered his clothes up in his arm, went to take them back through to his rooms and promptly tripped. The laundry went everywhere.

“No, lady, I’m just shit at magic,” He snapped, rubbing at his chin where he’d clonked it on the floor.

“I don’t think there’s any need for language like that,” She said, tossing her dark curls and vanishing into the side of her frame. Ryan sighed in frustration and brandished his wand. He sighed in relief when the scouring spell worked without a hitch.

And then, bam, it was the first week of September, and the noise of children chattering went crashing through the castle like a tidal wave. Ryan attended the Sorting Feast, with robes enchanted blue this time, and waved awkwardly when McGonagall pointed him out to the new students. He watched the Sorting ceremony in equal parts horror and fascination – he’d read about the houses in the book, but it all seemed much crueller when you could actually see the eleven-year-old faces you were labelling.

“So, they stay in those houses for the entire seven years?” He whispered to Professor Madej, who was sat on his right side.

“Yeah,” He whispered back, non-plussed. “Of course.”

“Jesus.”

“What, they don’t believe in sorting in California?”

“Didn’t have enough kids in my school to really justify it.”

“Merlin.”

McGonagall had turned her head slightly and was looking at them out of the corner of her eye. Ryan knew that she was the cat lady, but he was reminded inexplicably and inexorably of a velociraptor.

“What house were you in?” He asked once the food has appeared, and he’d gotten over his panic – he’s never seen so much food in his life, and a small part of his brain was yelling YOU GOTTA FINISH IT ALL! DON’T WASTE IT! (The voice sounded eerily like his mother).

“Slytherin, obviously,” Shane said, languidly chewing on a chicken wing. “I’m head of house.”

“What’s Slytherin’s deal?” Ryan gestured to the green table with his fork, still shovelling food into his mouth at a rate of knots.

“We value cunning and ambition.” Shane said. “The founder was uhh…kinda racist, but I like to think we’ve moved on.”

“Salazar Slytherin?” Ryan had read the book, the long book by the dead woman, but he wanted to hear what Shane thought about the whole thing.

“Yeah, him.” Shane said, abandoning the chicken wing and digging into some stew. The food was all disappointingly Britain-centric.

“What about the other houses?” Ryan asked.

“Well, Gryffindor is our biggest rival, just lunk-headed jocks. Hufflepuff is all the melts who actually like talking to people. Ravenclaw is just Slytherin, but they haven’t taken that last step in realising knowledge is power.” Shane used a hunk of bread to wipe up his stew. “Don’t tell Professor Borden I said so, though she knows I can’t stand her.”

“Yikes,” Ryan muttered, half to himself. “I think I’d be in Gryffindor.”

“Well, then we would have been enemies,” Shane said, finally glancing away from the students to give him the side-eye. “And I don’t think I would have liked that.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks, I guess.” Ryan said.

“It’s nothing, pal,” Shane said, reaching across him for a bowl of ice cream, and Ryan realised the food had become dessert without his noticing. 

“Oh god, I don’t think I can eat any more.” He said, leaning back in his chair.

“What – what are you doing?” Shane asked, and Ryan paused.

“Just…rubbing my belly.”

Shane was struggling to smother a grin. “Please…please stop.”

“No fuck you,” Ryan said immediately, rubbing his belly harder. Shane just laughed. 

Later that night, he stumbled up the staircases to the tower, so full of food he could hardly see straight. Shane waved goodbye at the doorway to the Defence classroom, leaving Ryan to stagger back to the North Tower alone. Tomorrow, he would be sitting in on other classes to “understand teaching”.

He spent the morning in Charms with Professor Flitwick, nodding to all the first years that gave him the side-eye. He took notes, because it seemed like the right thing to do, even though he would never be able to teach Divination the way Flitwick taught charms.

In the afternoon, he went back to his office and summoned some huge sheets of paper, and drew diagrams of the crystal ball, explanations of tarot, the various meanings of things you see in the bottoms of tea cups. He flattened the raised stages, and it only took him three goes. This was gonna be a proper goddamn classroom if it killed him.

The curly-haired woman watched him with bright eyes. The plaque below her portrait read _Prof Sara Rubin, Gryffindor Head 1923-1945._

“What did you teach?” He asked.

“Charms,” She said, tossing her curls about.

“Why are you in the Divination classroom?”

“I kept offering Flitwick helpful advice. Maybe some constructive criticism. He didn’t appreciate it, and so I have been banished.” She sniffed.

“Do you reckon I would have been in Gryffindor?”

“Oh, certainly. I’ve never seen anyone clean with such chivalry and nerve. You’re a Gryffindor, through and through.”

On Friday, he sat in on Madej’s class, with the OWL students.

“So kids, for the last week, we’ve been discussing the fundamentals of duelling.” Shane lounged easily against his desk, robes hanging open haphazardly. Ryan snorted to himself, sitting at the back of the huge room, and he saw Shane’s ear twitch.

“So today, now that I have a partner, it seems like a fantastic time to demonstrate!” He announced. It was Ryan’s turn to twitch. “Professor Bergara is your new Divination teacher, he’ll be starting his classes after the weekend. Please stand up, Professor.”

“E-excuse me?” Ryan said, turning terribly red.

“I was going to ask one of the other teachers to stand in, but you’re here, which is convenient.” Shane had discarded his robes, throwing them over the back of his chair, and was rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. The sight made Ryan’s mouth go a little dry, embarrassingly.

“I don’t, uh. I’m the Divination teacher.” Ryan stammered, painfully aware that every 15-year-old in the classroom had turned to stare him down. Why did he feel like he was back in high school?

“So? Can’t you duel?” Shane had brandished his wand, terribly ominously. 

“Well…” Ryan sighed. There was no way this was going to end well for him. He pulled out his own wand, casting his robes aside and turning to face his opponent. He was so fucking tall.

Shane saluted, and winked at him. Ryan stared back. The two took their places at the back of the classroom, and suddenly Shane’s wand was flashing out and away, utterly silent.  
Ryan sucked in a breath before everything went quiet, the air pressure in the room dropping, and that little voice in his head was back. _Defend._ It was like he was suddenly outside himself, viewing the scene as if through a snow globe. He saw it all, in thin slices – Shane’s shoulders tensing, the way his lips formed a small, quiet word, the twitching of his fingers in his free hand, and-

He leapt back and to the side, raising his wand and blocking the hex that missed his shoulder by a hair. _Holy shit._ Shane was already stepping forward, sliding into an attacking stance and forcing Ryan onto the back foot – instinctually, he twisted away, forcing Shane to move round so he was pointing away from the children goggling at the display.

A spell zipped past Ryan’s ear and hit a cabinet sat by the back door, shattering the glass front. Ryan returned the volley with a curse of his own, which was blocked with a grunt of effort. He tried to press the advantage, watching the way Madej’s stance had rocked back on repelling, but he regained his balance quickly and pushed Ryan back into the defence again.

 _“Impedimenta!”_ Ryan hissed, but Shane blocked him again with a slash of his wand. He had yet to speak a single spell aloud; occasionally his lips moved in a silent word, but otherwise the room rang only with the sound of spells zipping back and forth.

Without blinking, Shane hit Ryan with a curse that dragged his legs from under him, sending him rolling across the room, and then repaired the cabinet with a wave of his wand before Ryan had even realised he was on the floor. A stray piece of glass cut into Ryan’s forehead, and as he rolled over and scrambled to his feet the blood flowed into his eye and blinded him.

Madej strode forward, shadows swirling around him like mist, and Ryan fell backwards again in shock. The next thing he knew was the wand pressing against his throat and a low voice asking – “Do you yield, Professor?”

“Yeah, yeah, I yield.” Ryan spat, breathless, glaring up at Madej. The wand was replaced with a hand, helping him to his feet, but Ryan ignored it. He clambered to his feet alone, wiping the blood from his eyes. He’d never had a chance.

“Good work!” Shane announced, turning to the rest of the class, and then turning back when Ryan said nothing.

“Are you…gonna fix that?” Madej gestured to the cut. Ryan shook his head; the intense, turbulent connection to his magic that only came with adrenaline was gone, and he wasn’t willing to embarrass himself in front of teenagers any more.

“If anyone needs me, I’m going to the hospital wing,” He said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “I hope you enjoyed that, and I’m looking forward to seeing you in my class on Monday.”

Madame Lytle healed his forehead in one glance, giving him an odd look when he told her he was worried about infection. His hands were shaking so much he wasn’t sure he could have done any magic at that point; his wand would have fallen right out of his grip. He went back to his classroom and tried to concentrate on his lesson plans, but he kept getting up to pace back and forth with the events of the day playing on a loop in his mind.

He couldn’t get the image of the Defence teacher prowling towards him with wand outstretched out of his mind; couldn’t reconcile it with the gangly man who had lolloped across the classroom like he wouldn’t harm a fly. What was this guy’s deal? And what had he had to gain by humiliating Ryan like that?

There was a knock on his door later that night. Madej was standing there, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his robes.

“Just wanted to thank you, for helping me out in class today. And check that you were okay.” He said, gesturing to his forehead.

“I’m not okay,” Ryan said, colder than the depths of the loch outside. “You put me on the spot, and you humiliated me in front of students. Students that will walk in here in Monday, and immediately know me as the guy who got his ass kicked by Professor Madej.”

“It wasn’t-”

“So next time you consider demanding someone duel you, just take your 14-inch walnut wand, with all its fancy engravings and its little handle, and shove it up your nose.” And with that, Ryan slammed the door in his face. There truly was something life-affirming about getting to carry out a rant that you had been practicing all day.


	4. Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan teaches his first class and accepts an apology

He stayed in his room over the weekend, furiously writing and rewriting his lesson plans for the first week. Rubin occasionally piped up to remind him that he should eat something, and he ignored her. Food meant leaving the tower, and possibly seeing Madej, and Ryan didn’t trust himself not to do something like punch him in his stupid smug face.

On Monday morning, he did his best to patch up his robes, and he stood at the front of the room whilst the students filtered in. They goggled at the new posters on the wall, the desks lining the room. This was the first OWL class he would teach, of two. These kids actually wanted to be here. It would be fine.

The classroom was a mixture of blue, green, red and yellow – there weren’t enough applicants for the class to justify splitting them into houses.

“Good morning, children!” He called, as the clock ticked over to 9:01. “Welcome to your first year of Divination OWL!”

He used his wand to pull forward the blackboard at the back of the room, trying to hide the way his hand shook as he did so. They were just teenagers. All he had to do was convince them that he was worth listening to, and from everything he’d heard about Sybil Trelawney, the bar was low. They were just teenagers.

“I’m Professor Bergara.” He said, turning to the board and spelling his name. “I’m from the US, as you might have guessed. But here’s an exercise – what else do you know about me?”

The fourteen-year-olds stared back, utterly merciless. His gut roiled – they weren’t understanding him. A hand went up.

“Yes?”

“Were we – supposed to research you before the class?” A black girl with thick glasses and thicker hair looked worried. She was wearing Ravenclaw colours.

“No, God, no, that would be – cruel. And arrogant. No, I mean, what can you tell about me just by looking at me?”

“Like Sherlock Holmes?” The girl said.

“Exactly like Sherlock Holmes, but better, because it’s magic.” He said, pointing to her.

“Who’s Sherlock Holmes?” A tall blonde girl at the back of the room asked without looking up from examining her nails. They were green, to match her tie.

“A fictional Muggle detective,” The first girl responded eagerly. “He was so clever he could-”

“I don’t actually care, Evie,” The blonde girl sighed.

“Then why did you ask? Five points from Slytherin. We treat our class-mates with respect, Miss…?” Ryan asked, twirling his wand in his hand like he could do something impressive with it.

“Greengrass,” The girl mumbled, mouth turning down unpleasantly.

“Right. Back to the original subject – me.” Ryan said, smirking a little. “Nobody wants to have a go? There are no stupid answers.”

“You spilled ink on your sleeve.” Evie piped up, without raising her hand for the first time all lesson. “So, you were quickly writing something? Something important?”

“Good!” Ryan said. “I spilled ink on myself rewriting my lesson plan for today.”

“You got all these posters for the room, so you really care about Divination.” Another student piped up.

“Well, I wouldn’t bother teaching a subject I didn’t care about, but you’re right!” Ryan said.

“Judging by the state of your robes, you’re not the richest.” Miss Greengrass sneered from the back.

“I’m not!” Ryan agreed with her, ignoring the poor manners. “It’s an unfortunate fact that teachers don’t get paid much!”

“You’re right-handed,” Another girl said – a low-hanging fruit, but he wasn’t about to put her down. This was a success. He was actually engaging some children.

A couple more students put their hands up, but he ignored them. “The point of all this is that Divination, as far as I’m concerned, is about more than seeing the future. It’s about analysing, understanding data, and most importantly, trusting your intuition. In this class, we’ll study traditional forms of seeing, in Western culture and others, but we’ll also work on getting in touch with our magic – understanding ourselves and understanding others.”

He flipped the board with his free hand to reveal the diagram he’d drawn earlier – a human form with the flow of chi drawn over it in various colours, labelled in a careful hand.

“Now, pair off with someone you don’t know well, and practice what you just tried to do with me. Guess something about them.” He finished with a relieved rush of air, the big speech finally out the way.

All the students grouped up – he suspected they were ignoring the instruction to pick someone he didn’t know well – and when the stragglers were left, he paired them together himself. Evie and the Greengrass girl were left over, and he told them to work together, although he wondered if it was wise.

He left the class to it, sitting at the desk he’d gotten from an old classroom on the floor below – it had taken a combination of levitation and manual labour. Every time a teacher had appeared, if he wasn’t levitating the thing, he’d had to pretend like he was terribly intrigued by one of the paintings. 

When his hour was up, he bid them all goodbye and watched them filter out, chatting with one another excitedly. Some were still interested in the posters on the wall, hanging around to read them up close. It made a small pit of satisfaction burn in his gut, sitting at his desk.

Evie hung around once the others had gone, and he turned to face her.

“What’s up?” He said, then cursed himself. What’s up wasn’t very…teacherly.

“Uh, sorry,” She said, clutching nervously at the strap of her satchel. “I just wanted to say that – I really liked that class. I wasn’t going to take Divination, because Professor Trelawney…well. I wasn’t going to take it. But I love the subject, so when I heard that there would be a new teacher, I took a chance.”

“Well, thanks.” Ryan said, sitting up a little straighter and brushing some imaginary dust off his robes. “Let’s hope I can keep it up!”

“I’m Evie,” She said. “Evie Adeola. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Evie.” He said, watching her hurry towards the trapdoor and down with her hair bouncing. When he was certain she was out of earshot, he punched the air, shouting with glee. Maybe this was going to be alright.

He did the same exercise with the third-year elective class, and the second OWL class. Both received it as well as the first, and his ego only grew.

After a week of classes, in which he revised reading tea leaves with the fourth years and went over it for the first time with the third years, he felt like he could maybe show his face around the castle again.

Madej was at lunch on his third day of teaching, but after nodding politely and impersonally, he ignored him for the entire hour. Ryan was very happy with this state of affairs, taking the time to chat with Professor Sprout about the greenhouses, and coming to an arrangement regarding the growing of tea for his classes.

On his way back to the tower, he ran into a cold spot and stopped dead. Turning slowly, he came face to face with a half-man, grey and cold, floating a few inches above the ground. He was wreathed in chains. 

“Fuck!” Ryan yelped, eyes wide with fear and maybe a little excitement. “You’re the Bloody Baron.”

The ghost said nothing, merely narrowing his eyes in vague contempt.

“You – you’re a ghost?” Ryan said.

“Obviously,” He said, though his voice seemed to come from across a great void, merely a murmur. 

“How are you still here?” Ryan asked, trying not to let his voice shake with excitement. “Can you? Interact with stuff? What are you made of?”

The ghost’s lip curled, and he drifted forward, straight through Ryan and on down the corridor. Ryan stumbled backwards in fright, letting out an embarrassing yelp as he felt an unbearable cold pass through him. He shivered, rubbing his arms as he watched the wall where the ghost vanished, and carried on back to his classroom. 

“Remember, this is not an innate ability,” He called as he wove amongst the desks, noting which students were staring into the cups with concentration written on their faces, and which were staring out the windows at the sunshine, unusual for September. “Yeah, maybe some people are better at it than others – usually those who take the time to observe their surroundings, to understand what they see and what they feel inside. But Divination doesn’t need magic, or ability. It’s ultimately about intention.”

He looked over Evie’s shoulder, and saw her leaves clumped together in a non-descript lump.

“Miss Adeola, get another cup.” He said, pointing towards the front of the classroom. “Don’t be afraid to dump the leaves and start over!”

It was uncharacteristically warm for Scotland in September – an Indian summer, he overheard one of the professors saying – and he followed the students down to the lake when the final class finished. There were children everywhere, enjoying the sunshine: eleven-year-olds goggling at the giant squid, and the seventeen-year-olds in loose groups, already engrossed in books only two weeks into term.

He took his robes off and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, throwing the robes down on the grass so he could sit down without getting his dress slacks wet. He’d risk a scouring spell later to get the grass stains out.

Ryan had already seen the squid, and freaked out, and gotten over it, and he took a little pride in appearing unconcerned by the creature erupting from the water. Every day in California had been like this, warmer even, but they’d been trapped in school all day, and when he’d finished he’d trudged home to his parents in the sweltering heat.

He wouldn’t change it, not at this point in his life, but a small part of him wondered who he would have been if he’d gone to a school like Hogwarts. Maybe someone like Madej – supremely comfortable in a position of authority, wielding his wand like it was an extension of his arm. Maybe that was what he had sacrificed for the sake of staying close to his family, only to dash it all when he moved to the UK.

Speak (or think) of the devil and he shall appear – a shadow fell across his face as someone moved to block the sun above him. It was the Defence professor himself.

“Hello Ryan,” He said, hands shoved in his pockets. Ryan squinted up at him, unwilling to really acknowledge that he was there. “I, uh. I thought about what you said. And…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“I’m sorry for forcing you to duel me,” Madej said, avoiding his eye and scuffing his foot in the grass. “You’re right – I was only thinking about impressing my students, and about seeing what you were capable of.”

“What?” Ryan spluttered. “What did you think I could be capable of?”

“I dunno,” Madej shrugged, a sharp contrast to the man who had cursed him without flinching the previous week. “I got a weird vibe from you. I wanted to suss you out.”

“No,” Ryan said heatedly, scrambling to his feet (keeping his dignity entirely intact). “I got a weird vibe from you.”

“Why are you getting angry?” Madej said, taking his hands out his pockets, shoulders tensing again. He seemed to go from hunched and unassuming to cold and dangerous between breaths – Ryan’s instincts couldn’t keep up. “I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah,” Ryan stepped back, dropping his gaze. Something about Madej made his hackles rise. Maybe the way Ryan could never get a read on him, or how goddamn arrogant he was. They were right; you shouldn’t meet your heroes. “Yeah, you did. And it’s forgiven.”

When Ryan acquiesced, Madej immediately relaxed back into his self-effacing slouch. “Thanks.” He said, with a surprisingly charming smile. “You getting acquainted with the squid?”

“Yeah, we’re getting along…swimmingly.” Ryan said, realising what he was saying as it was half out of his mouth. “Pun not intended.” 

Shane burst into wheezing laughter. “I think it was entirely intended. Something about your claim seems…fishy.”

Ryan huffed, grabbed his robes, and went back inside, though he couldn’t stop a grin spreading across his face. He ran into Borden again, who grabbed his arm in a vice-like hand.

“Remember my warning. Madej will bring trouble.” She hissed, and let Ryan go again. He practically scuttled away, too shocked by the encounter to even reply.

He tried a scouring spell to get the stains off and ended up shredding the robes. Fuck it. He was the cool new teacher – he’d wear his street clothes.


	5. The Cell-Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan has unfortunate encounters with both ghosts and Slytherins.

The good weather didn’t last, because nothing ever could, and the rain swept in from the continent the next day. Students hurried across the courtyard with their books over their heads for shelter, and the wind battered the Divination Tower. Ryan could barely make himself heard over the noise.

“Don’t forget – magic is irrelevant. Look at the facts you have and analyse them. What lies ahead can be divined from information we have now.”

“Hey, Professor,” Evie said excitedly. “I think I saw something!” She was so close to the tea cup she was in danger of her glasses falling off her nose.

“Let’s take a look,” Ryan said, stooping over her desk. The teacup had a sunburst shape to the right of the handle, near the rim. “Wow. What did you ask it?”

“About this year’s exams,” Evie said, still staring into the cup like it held all the secrets of the universe. With the way Ryan had been carrying on, she probably believed it did.

“Well done, Miss Adeola,” He said, patting her on the shoulder.

After the class, Evie hung back again.

“I was just thinking about what you said. Analysing facts. It’s, uh…nice. Magic doesn’t come that easy to me.”

“Are you a Muggleborn?” Ryan asked, packing the teacups into their boxes carefully by hand.

“No!” Evie immediately protested. “I mean. No. I’m half-blooded.”

“Oh. I am,” Ryan said, and waved his wand at one of the cups casually. It flew through the air towards its box before merrily crashing to the floor and shattering everywhere. He waved his wand again and the cup repaired itself, reluctantly. Evie smiled, a small and empathetic smile, and asked about further reading. Ryan offered to walk with her to the library.

“That’s okay, Professor,” She said. “I know the way to the library pretty well at this point!”

“It’s fine,” He waved it away. “I’m gonna abandon the tower for today. Can’t hear myself think up here.”

Evie chattered to him on the way down the stairs in a way that suggested she didn’t very often get the opportunity to talk.

“I’m really enjoying the class, Professor. I’m glad you were Trelawney’s replacement. But hey – what happened to her?” Her eyes widened, and she whispered. “Did she…die?”

“No, yikes,” Ryan said. “She resigned. Don’t ask me why, though.”

A shrill cackling erupted from all around them, and a little grey man descended through the ceiling to block their path. 

“A new teacher!” He cried, flipping over and back, the bells on his weird hat jingling. “I love new teachers! Fresh meat!”

“Get lost, Peeves,” Evie said, shaking her dark curls in disgust. 

“Evie’s finally made a friend!” Peeves cackled. “No students wanna be your friend, Evie? You gotta resort to teachers?”

“Hey, leave her alone.” Ryan said. 

“What are you gonna do, divinate me?” Peeves asked, and blew a loud raspberry. 

“Come on, Evie,” Ryan hurried the girl down the corridor and tried to ignore the ghost cackling and making rude noises in his ear. He ran straight into a tall someone.

“Piss off, Peeves,” Shane said nonchalantly. 

“Ooh, it’s Auror Madej,” Peeves swooped around the three living humans. “I’m soooo scared!” 

“Have you forgotten the last time you annoyed me, Peeves?” Shane said, twirling his wand between long fingers. Peeves gulped and vanished. 

At the library, Ms Chirico helped Ryan find a book on meditation, although the section on Divination was disappointingly sparse. Evie took it gleefully and immediately sat down at a table and buried her nose in it. Ryan left her to it.

The storm was throwing his balance off, if he was honest – there was a disturbance in the flow of energy around the castle, and so inside Ryan, because as much as he was loathe to admit it, the place already felt like home.

That weekend, he made his way down to the village beyond the forest and called his mother. The sound of her voice helped him find his centre again, and he told her so. She missed him. He missed them, but he couldn’t say he missed California, even in the bitter cold of late September.

As he hung up, he felt a shadow fall across his back.

“What on earth is that?” Shane Madej asked.

“It’s…a cell phone.” Ryan said, putting it away carefully. “Have you not seen one before?”

“No,” Madej said, sliding into the seat opposite him. The Three Broomsticks was quiet, for a Saturday morning, which meant it was still bustling with activity. “What’s it for?”

“I can call people on it. Talk to them when they’re far away.” Ryan said.

“Oh! Like Floo powder!” Madej said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Can I see it?”

Ryan got the cell phone out – it was just a flip phone, he hadn’t seen the point in splashing out on a smart phone when the damn things barely worked anywhere remotely magical. The closer to analogue he got, the better they worked, but it wasn’t like they sold the brick ones anywhere anymore.

Shane poked at the buttons carefully, eyes wide with fascination. “So, you can use this anywhere?”

“If there are radio waves to carry the signal. And you’re not too close to any shields. It doesn’t work in the castle.”

“Who were you talking to?”

“My mom.”

“In America?”

“Yeah,”

“Wow,” Shane muttered, turning the phone over in his hands. “Are you guys close?”

“Yeah, we are.”

“That’s nice.”

The two sat in awkward silence. Shane coughed, and offered to buy Ryan a drink. Ryan gratefully accepted, mostly to get a break from piercing eyes and probing questions. 

Enigmas made his neck hurt. So did having to stare up to look someone in the eyes.

But Shane came back with two Butterbeers, and they sat in silence some more, until finally-

“So, your teaching is causing a buzz round the school.” Shane said, sipping at his drink. “One of my kids was raving about it to her friends yesterday morning.”

“Well, it feels like I’m getting somewhere,” Ryan said, also sipping at his drink. He didn’t want to sound like he was too pleased with himself.

“Imagine what they’d be saying if I hadn’t whooped your ass first. You’d be teacher of the year already.”

Ryan burst out laughing, dribbling Butterbeer down the front of his robes. Shane’s shoulders shook, repressing his own giggles.

“Yeah, good thing you beat me down first. I’d be too powerful otherwise.”

Shane outright smiled, a horrifically charming thing that only made Ryan want to smile back.

“You were good in the duel, though. I was impressed.”

“Yeah? That means a hell of lot from Shane Madej,” Ryan said.

“Yeah, especially when McGonagall told me you were Muggleborn.” Shane said, taking another sip of his beer, utterly unaware of how Ryan’s hand had clenched around his glass.

“What’s, uh…what’s wrong with being Muggleborn?” Ryan asked, extraordinarily careful.

“Nothing! Nothing,” Shane said quickly. “Just…you must know. Magic is more of a struggle for you.”

It was, but that was Ryan’s business, and certainly not Shane’s to draw attention to.

“There’s no evidence that being Muggleborn has any effect on magical ability. Either you have it, or you don’t.” Ryan said. “I mean, have you been living under a rock? Lily Evans? Hermione Granger?”

“Come on,” Shane scoffed. “No one’s ever going to do an official study on it. There would be outrage. But experience has shown me that being pure blood gives you an edge.”

“A privilege, maybe, but not any kind of ability.” Ryan said coldly, draining his glass and slamming it back on the table. “I hope you don’t ever voice thoughts like these to your students. I have to go.”

And with that, he stalked out. He couldn’t quit achieve the swirl of robes that McGonagall appeared to be capable of, but he thought he had a quiet dignity. And Shane was left alone in the pub.

He stormed through the corridors and almost ran headfirst into Greengrass, stomping in the opposite direction with her white-blonde hair swirling behind her. Even though she was only fourteen, she wasn’t much shorter than Ryan. She glowered at him and went to step round him, practically running round the corner and down the stairs to the Slytherin common room.

“Cripes,” Ryan muttered. He took the stairs back to his tower at a more sedate pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol someone said they were glad the boys made up bc it wasnt right for them to be fighting so here they are...falling out again...im sorry


	6. Groundskeeper-In-Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan meets a magical beast, meditates, and discusses the merits of "muggle culture"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is...fast becoming a big ol' fuck you to everything I didn't like in the original franchise (and the Cursed Child fuck the Cursed Child). JK and I have a complicated relationship.

He slept badly that night; tossing and turning in a half-doze, plagued with images from the castle surrounding. The overall aura of the school was one of positivity, friend-ship and learning, coming of age and knowing oneself better – but it was tempered with heart-break and grief, violence from days gone past. He saw a boy with a scar holding his wand out in a shaking hand, a cat prowling the corridors, a girl with lank brown hair and pleading eyes who was soaked to the skin in muddy water.

When he finally dropped into sleep for real, he dreamed of the tarot shop, and Madame Radkiel chewing him out for being late again. He didn’t know how to tell her what a chore it was just to get out of bed in the morning, these days.

He awoke with the sun peering languidly through the tiny windows and was struck with the unyielding impression that there was something hiding beneath his floorboards, waiting for him. The compulsion was so strong that he was out of bed and on his knees, about to pry the boards up with his bare hands, before he realised what he was doing. Non-plussed, he got back to his feet and dusted his legs off. He needed to invest in some really woolly pyjama pants before the winter set in for real.

It was so early that the castle appeared empty, but there was no way Ryan was getting back to sleep now. Shrugging on his new woollen coat, he pottered down the stairs, through the Great Hall and out into the crisp clear air and the school grounds. The lake glittered in the sunrise to his left, the school gates straight ahead down the winding path, and to the right the Forbidden Forest swayed gently. The green leaves were starting to tint yellow at the edges. 

He breathed deeply, feeling himself calmed by the cold air and the refreshing blankness of outside. The castle was a busy mess of clashing energies; the grounds, whilst prone to retaining its own set of sorrows, was calmer. 

As he wandered down the hill towards the forest, he spotted a small stone house with a merrily smoking chimney at the edge of the trees. He knew that the groundskeeper lived there, but he had yet to meet him. What really caught his attention was the paddock by the house that held three bizarre creatures: huge birds with the back legs of horses and lions’ tails. He stopped and stared at them as they dozed, two gently snapping at one another sleepily. 

Steadily, he approached the fence, and when one of the hippogriffs noticed him he bowed low. He waited, breath baited, until the beast bowed back and walked up to the fence line to let him scratch the edge of its beak. 

“Beautiful,” He breathed, hardly believing that this wasn’t a dream. He had only seen Hippogriffs in the pages of his school books; they were found occasionally in the northern-most parts of the US and Canada, and certainly not in urban California. 

“Hey!” A high-pitched voice shouted, and he heard the door of the house slam. The hippogriff snapped at his fingers indignantly and turned to trot away. He turned and saw a tall young woman with wildly curly dark hair and brown skin running towards him from the hut. When she realised who he was, she slowed down. 

“Oh, sorry, Professor,” She puffed, putting her hands on her knees. “Thought you were a student, bothering the hippogriffs. Can’t be too careful.”

“No worries,” He said. “I’m Ryan. Ryan Bergara.”

“Daphne Hagrid,” She said, holding out a hand eagerly. “Groundskeeper in training. Awfully early to be up and about?”

“Felt like taking a walk,” He shrugged.

“Okay,” She said. “Fancy a cup of tea?” 

The house contained a long oak table, a neat little stove, and a beaten copper sink. There was a box bed in one corner next to a very tall, wide door. Light filtered in through old, diamond pane windows. 

“Uncle! The new teacher is here!” Daphne called, busying herself with the kettle at the sink. The door opened, and a giant of a man squeezed himself through. His face was obscured by a mass of grey curly hair and beard, but Ryan could see two beetle-black eyes twinkling somewhere in the wrinkled, hairy face. 

“Professor Bergara!” The man boomed, shuffling forward to shake Ryan’s hand. “What a treat, what a treat. Don’t get many teachers out here these days.”

“Hello,” Ryan said, as the giant pumped his hand up and down. “I was just taking a walk, you know-”

“I’m Hagrid, the groundskeeper. Used to teach Care of Magical Creatures, but I’m gettin’ a bit past it these days! Daphne here is my great niece, she helps me out round the castle, learnin’ on the job and all that.”

He lowered himself slowly into a squashy armchair. “Dunno what I’d do without her! She charmed the hut to make it bigger, very clever, very clever indeed.”

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Daphne said, lighting the stove with a flick of her wand. The kettle began to whistle almost immediately. She poured out three huge ceramic mugs of tea and handed one to Ryan and one to Hagrid.

“Thank you, my dear,” Hagrid said. “So, how are you finding teaching, Professor?”

“Call me Ryan, please,” Ryan said, a little awkwardly. “And I think I’m still getting used to the idea, honestly.”

“Divination, eh?” Hagrid said. “Must be a hoot.” 

“It’s always been…my passion.” Ryan said, feeling oddly like he might be at a job interview. 

“How’d ye like life in the castle? Must be quiet compared to the big city.”

“It’s not so bad. And the castle isn’t exactly quiet.” Ryan said. Daphne snorted.

“Ain’t nothing compared to when I was a teacher,” Hagrid said. 

“You mean…the civil war?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Hagrid chuckled. “My first year of being a teacher, we had a convict on the loose round the school.”

“Sirius Black?” Ryan asked. “Do you know anything about him? He vanished without a trace in 1995, and there are all these theories about what happened to him. Like, he escaped from Azkaban in 1993, then he shows up here, then he vanishes again, then suddenly the Ministry pardons him of everything? Out of nowhere? Weird.”

“Well-” Hagrid looked a little shifty. 

“The Stubby Boardman theory is obviously, you know, baloney, but I can’t help wondering-”

“Noticed you admiring the hippogriffs,” Hagrid interrupted. “Beautiful creatures. I bred ‘em myself, you know.” 

“Wow,” Ryan said, wrapping his hands round the massive cup of tea. “Yeah, I’ve never seen one before. Well, haven’t seen many magical creatures of any kind before.”

“That’s a real shame,” Hagrid tutted. “People think city life is all that but-”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door, which Daphne answered to reveal a small, skinny boy in Hufflepuff robes with messy black hair standing waiting. 

“Albus? You’re not usually out here this early in the morning.” Hagrid said. 

“Steven tried to hex me again-” The boy said, but stopped when he saw Ryan. 

“I think I’d better go,” Ryan said, draining the last of his tea and standing up. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll see you around.”

He brushed past the Hufflepuff boy and made his way back up to the castle, looking wistfully back at the hippogriffs as he went. 

“Professor, I noticed that you’ve taken tarot off the syllabus?” McGonagall asked him at breakfast.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan said. “It’s really too complex to be teaching to students before NEWT level, and it’s not in the final exam. And I wanted to teach some other methods that were more straightforward, add some diversity.”

And also, a little bit, tarot was a thing that was just for him. He wasn’t really willing to share it with a load of fourteen-year-olds the way he was with other methods.

“You know best,” McGonagall sniffed, returning to her bacon. Madej, sat on her other side, snorted and Ryan glowered at him. There hadn’t been any modern definitive proof that the Evil Eye truly ever existed, but he really hoped it did.

He phoned his brother and told him what Shane had said to him in the Three Broomsticks. 

“So, this guy is like, the king of magical microaggressions?” Jake asked, yawning down the phone. It was 10am in California and he was still only just getting out of bed. 

“Not the king but he’s really trying it,” Ryan said, tucking the phone under his ear so he could pull his wallet out and pay for the books he was buying in the village. 

“Look, dude, I’m sure I’ve told you before, but wizard culture sounds super yikes.” Jake said. “If people aren’t beating you up because I’m a No Maj, they’re making fun of your job!”

“It has its perks,” Ryan said, stopping and watching a group of students crowd into Honeydukes with glittering eyes. “I didn’t think I’d enjoy being a teacher so much but I’m like, really enjoying it.”

“Make sure you tell Mom that,” Jake sighed. “She’s losing her damn mind about you. Poor Ryan, all on his own on the other side of the ocean.”

Every day, the owls brought fresh packages with books on reading palms, magical time-keeping, the ethics of divination. Some went to the library, to Chirico’s delight, and some went into Ryan’s study. The little room was starting to look roomier; framed photographs of his family (stationary) covered the walls, plus a Back to the Future poster. He bought two sets of new robes, enchanted with stain-proofing magic.

As the castle moved into October, the skies began to darken earlier. The gorse on the hills around the lake lost their yellow flowers. The wind picked up, howling around Ryan’s tower late at night whilst he tried to sleep. 

That afternoon, the rain hammered against the tower windows as Ryan led the OWL students in a meditation session. Evie was trying her hardest; eyes screwed shut to the point that she was probably concentrating too much to be successful. Hannah Greengrass was surreptitiously reading a book under her desk. Ryan left her to it.

“Let yourself drift,” He said, a low voice. “We miss so much of the big picture in our daily lives. Stop focusing on the details…see the connections around you.”

When he was satisfied that the students weren’t listening to him, he sat down at his desk and joined them in the contemplation.

He remembered the first time he had ever done magic. He’d been nine years old, walking his brother home from school. Every day they had walked past a yard with a dog chained out front; every day it snapped and barked at them, pulling the chain taut in fury. One day, the hook had come clean out the wall, and the dog had lunged at them viciously. The next thing he knew, the puddle at his feet had blown upwards in a wave of water, knocking the dog backwards and sending it tumbling across the lawn. He and Jake had run, and the dog had not followed. Ever since, he’d felt an affinity for water.

He didn’t breathe a word to his parents about the incident, and neither did Jake. Then two years later, a teacher from the Belasco School of Magic in San Francisco had appeared at their door and told his parents everything.

They hadn’t believed it. Ryan remembered the dog; all the times he’d miraculously avoided footballs flying at his face, the tree branches he had fallen off and not been harmed, and he knew it was the truth.

Then came Belasco, and the other wizard kids, and the attack-

“Professor?” He jolted out of his reverie to see Evie standing in front of him, as the other students filtered out of the room. He hadn’t heard the bell go off.

“Um,” He coughed awkwardly. “Practice that in your own time. The better you are at clearing your mind and holding your intention steady, the more effect you will be at Divination.”

“See you around, Professor,” Evie waved and skipped away.

That night, Ryan was on a rota to take some kids doing detention in a spare classroom on the third floor. He brought several books and a notepad, ready to make lesson plans whilst the students worked. Hannah Greengrass was there, fiddling with her wand instead of writing the essay she had spread in front of her. Then Madej showed up.

“Oh, it’s you,” He said, fiddling with the cuffs on his navy-blue robes. Ryan looked down, seeing tidy brown boots sticking out from the bottom of Madej’s robes.

“We’re just making sure everybody is working,” Ryan said. “I think we’d better keep conversation to a minimum.”

Madej sniffed and took his seat at a desk opposite Ryan, pulling out a stack of parchment and his quill. It was eagle feather. Ryan sighed, looking down at his ballpoint pen as he spun it between his fingers, and tried to concentrate on his reading. It soon became impossible.

“Psst. Bergara.” Madej waved a hand at him.

“What?” Ryan hissed.

“What on earth is that?” Madej pointed to the pen.

“This? It’s a pen.”

“No, this is a pen,” Madej whispered, lifting the quill in the air. “What is that?”

“It is a pen.” Ryan insisted quietly, scribbling on his notepad to prove it. “It’s what No Majs use.”

“Whack,” Shane muttered, reaching out and plucking the pen from his hand before Ryan could stop him. “Is that ink inside?”

“Yeah. It’s much easier to use than a quill and ink pot.” Ryan said, snatching the pen back again.

“Do you have other Muggle stuff?” Madej said. “Like the phone thing?”

“Don’t you think it’s all useless?” Ryan said. “It’s not magic, it must be stupid.”

“I’m not _racist,_ ” Madej whispered, glancing around at the students pretending not to listen to them talk. “I’m allowed to be interested in other cultures. And this stuff is cool.”

“It’s – it’s not culture,” Ryan said. “It’s just what we use. It’s not…unique enough.”

“Seems unique to me.”

“But everyone uses them. Wands aren’t wizard culture.”

“I mean…I guess they kind of are.” Madej mused. “But wizards and muggles both have their own cultures within those two categories.”

“Exactly,” Ryan said. “And ballpoint pens are used by many different muggle cultures, to the point where they’re not a cultural thing.”

“I see where you’re coming from,” He said, and Ryan realised that Shane had somehow lured him into having a conversation with him, with those droopy eyes and the interested perk to his ears.

“Miss Greengrass!” He called suddenly, making Shane jump and sit back. “Are you actually working?”

“Yes, sir,” She mumbled sullenly.

“I can see you painting your nails.”

She vanished the bottle with a flick of her wand and rested her head on her hand with infallible nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”

“You deal with her,” Ryan said, poking Shane in the arm with the ballpoint pen. “You’re her head of house.” He was utterly nonplussed by how easily she’d used nonverbal magic – she was fourteen. Shane gave him a wide-eyed look, obviously equally disquieted.

“Don’t lie to teachers, Hannah, unless you want more detention,” He said, without taking his eyes off Ryan. “If you’ve got nothing to do, you can finish this essay you handed in this morning.”

“I did finish it!” She protested, sitting up straight in her chair and tossing her blonde hair out of her eyes.

“You did not.” Shane said, levitating the parchment across the room to her. “Read over my notes and write it properly, or I’ll tell your grandparents.”

Her mouth twisted unpleasantly, but she set her quill to the page whilst the other students stared. Ryan hid his grin behind his hand, and Shane noticed, settling back to his marking with a small and satisfied smirk.


	7. Dinner

That night, Ryan dreamt that he was in the tarot shop in the dark, and the doors were locked from the outside. He rattled at them uselessly, pulled at the gap until his fingernails started to bleed. There was something in the shop with him; it was under the floorboards, pounding to get free.

He bolted upright in a cold sweat, glancing wildly around the floor of the little tower room. The floorboards remained undisturbed. For now.

He went through meditation again with the OWL students, sitting on his desk and watching them breathe slowly and deeply. Occasionally he gave them direction on finding their centres; he could see the stress and angst of being a teenager where it disrupted them in various ways. A couple of them were so anxious that the attempt to clear their minds were useless – they sat at the side of the room with a book of crossword puzzles each. He tried to keep his voice low and soothing, but he knew that it was a little on the wrong side of nasal for a really good meditation aid.

 _Professor Madej’s voice would be good for that,_ the voice in the back of his head said unbidden. He shook it off.

As he stood looking over the students, he was suddenly struck with a sense-memory – not his, but the room’s, a lingering impression from another time – of a young lady with bushy brown hair storming out of the classroom as the other teenagers watched with mouths open. 

He leaned into the sensation of community, the amusement that still permeated the room. He could almost see Professor Trelawney pursing her lips in disapproval, hear the quiet giggling as the trapdoor slammed shut. Then a gust of wind rattled the window pane and the memory was gone. 

Evie hung around after class, as she did more often than not. Ryan didn’t mind at all.

“I just wanted to say that I read the book you gave me,” She said. “And the meditation thing has been really helpful. Professor Trelawney only did one lesson on it, and she put this stuff on the fire that made my head go all fuzzy, it was terrible.”

Ryan stared at her, mouth open in shock. 

“Anyway, the meditation thing is great. It’s nice to sit and just stop thinking for a while,” She said. “Especially when it feels like I’ve been studying so much my brain is being squeezed out like a sponge. But I meant to ask you – are you and Professor Madej friends?”

“Uhhh,” Ryan said intelligently. “Yeah. He’s a good teacher.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he wasn’t about to tell a fourteen-year-old about his beef with any teachers.

“Oh,” Evie said, tugging at the strap of her bookbag absent-mindedly. “It’s just that James Potter said you guys were in a feud,” Air quotes. “And that you hated Professor Madej because he’d stolen your girlfriend in the States and that’s why he made you duel him, and that he’d seen you two at each other’s throats in the Three Broomsticks, and also Hannah Greengrass said that you guys had been fighting when you were in detention. But I guess none of that is true.”

Ryan burst out laughing. “God, no. No. I had never met Professor Madej before I came to Hogwarts.”

“I thought as much,” Evie said. “James also said you held your own in the duel, and that not many people had gone toe to toe with Auror Madej and still been able to speak English afterwards.”

“Well, tell Mr Potter thanks, I guess,” Ryan said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Stole my girlfriend. You guys are wild.”

“He does talk a lot,” Evie scrunched up his nose. “Pretty typical Gryffindor. But everyone believes him, just because of who his dad is.”

Professor Madej showed up with the second-year students at the start of the next period, hands jammed deep in his pockets.

“People keep raving to me about this great class,” He muttered. “I have a free period. Thought I’d sit in.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Ryan said. “Try not to look too much like you’re…inspecting me.”

“Sure,” Shane said quickly and folded himself into an empty desk at the back of the room.

He shut his eyes and slowed his breathing as Ryan instructed the rest of the class, and Ryan took the opportunity to examine him more closely. His hair flopped loosely over his forehead in a way that suggested he didn’t much care how it looked, yet his robes were clean and expensive. The cleft between his eyebrows smoothed out as he relaxed, making him look much younger and softer. It was downright impossible to imagine this man, hunched over the little desk, catching criminals.

As Ryan watched, his eyelids flickered and his fingers began to drum on the tabletop. His eyes opened, looking straight at Ryan and catching him out in the act of staring at him. Ryan gulped and looked away, but Shane only quirked an eyebrow in amusement and closed his eyes again.

“Clear your mind of the mundane and the everyday,” Ryan said, sweeping his gaze across the students fidgeting in their seats. “Relax. Sit still. Focus on the bigger picture. I said sit still, Mr Deveraux. Feel the air currents in the room, listen to the ambient noises.”

A hand shot up.

“Ambient means the background noises,” Ryan said. “Do you hear the wind outside? Do you smell the smoke of the fire? Let yourself exist in the moment, without worries or doubts.”

One boy’s head slumped down onto the desk, totally asleep. Ryan sighed.

When the bell rang, Madej stretched in his seat and sat back, waiting for the students to clear before ambling up to the front of the room where Ryan was poking the fire. Winter was closing in around the castle, and Ryan was feeling the chill.

“That was very enlightening,” He said, fiddling with his wand. “I think I see what all the fuss is about.”

“Good,” Ryan said. “I’m going to convince the next generation that Divination matters even if it kills me. Hey, did you know the students are gossiping about us?”

His eyes went wide. “What are they saying?”

“Chill out, it’s fine,” Ryan said. “Someone thought we were fighting and decided that because we were both from the States, you must have stolen my girlfriend.”

“But I did steal your girlfriend,” Madej said. “Don’t you remember, Ryan?”

Ryan snorted. “Curse you, Shane Madej! I knew one day we would come face to face, and I would make you pay for your crimes!”

Madej chuckled softly. A draught rattled the wide window panes, and Ryan shivered involuntarily as the hairs on his arms rose to combat the cold.

“Are you – do you have warmer robes?” Madej asked. “Because I could – I dunno, I could get you some.”

“What…makes you think I can’t get myself some?” Ryan asked carefully. He knew full well what made Madej think that he couldn’t get himself some, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

“Nothing! Nothing,” Madej said, shoving his wand deep into the pocket of his robes.

“I don’t want charity,” Ryan said.

“I didn’t mean – yes, of course. I’m just – I’m gonna go,” Madej said, practically dashing from the room.

Ryan looked at his blue button down and holey corduroys and sighed. He probably could afford new robes now, but he rather felt he’d created a brand for himself as a teacher. He could at least replace the trousers.

That night, he got his most trusted tarot deck out – it was the only one he had brought to the UK – and shuffled them until he felt his soul chill out again. He drew a single card – the Hierophant again, one that had been an influence on him his entire life. _Broaden your experience and become a master in your chosen field._ Then the Five of Coins. _Opposites attract but beware infatuation._

For the first time in a long time, Ryan was perplexed. Which opposite was he supposed to be infatuated with? He shuffled again, but the deck was giving him no more; the cards had lost their shine. With a sigh, he put them away again, and went to look up the Five of Coins. He hadn’t had to look up cards in a long time, but maybe he was missing something important.

He was distracted for the whole of the next morning. During lunch, he wandered out into the grounds in an attempt to clear his head and was so oblivious that he almost wandered straight into the Forbidden Forest. Luckily Hagrid, pottering around the pumpkin patch, shouted to him and snapped him out of it.

“Alright, Professor?” 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, fiddling with his shirt-sleeves. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You look like you’ve got something on yer mind.”

“I’m fine.” Ryan repeated. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” Hagrid shrugged. “Look at these pumpkins, eh? They’re going to be some size by Halloween. Daphne’s got one heck of a green thumb.”

As the students in his last class cleared, he realised that Madej was standing just beyond the doorway. He’d forsaken the waistcoat today for dark brown robes over a white shirt, a more casual look.

“What can I do for you?” He asked curtly.

“I, ah…” He ruffled his hair awkwardly, staring at the floor. “I wondered if you wanted to get dinner with me in the village tonight. My treat.”

“I don’t want charity-”

“Will you just? Chill out?” Madej raised his hands defensively. “It’s as an apology. I think I offended you last weekend. And the other day. And yesterday. Just consider it a blanket apology for everything I’ve ever said and might say in the future.”

Ryan snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, why not. I’ll see you tonight.”

He agonised for a while after classes had finished over what he was going to wear – it wasn’t everyday one of your heroes offered to buy you dinner. Then again, Madej had cut straight through any heroic impressions Ryan had had of him. Guess it was true what they said.

He was waiting for him by the great entranceway later, in a smart button down and no robes. Ryan got the impression that he had noticed how he dressed and made an effort to match, and he appreciated it.

They walked to the Three Broomsticks in silence, where it bustled with grown wizards instead of children. Madame Lytle and Ms Chirico and Professor Borden were sat at a table by the door, clutching glasses of something mint green and vaguely fizzy. Devin and Kristin both immediately burst into giggles when Shane walked by, but Borden was staring at Ryan with an almost hurt expression. He avoided her eyes. They both ordered, and Ryan still couldn’t find anything to say.

“So…what’s the deal with the house system? Why is that a thing?” He finally asked.

“Didn’t you read Hogwarts: a History?”

“Yeah, but frankly, it seemed like bullshit. What good ever came of keeping children in packs according to ‘like-mindedness’?” Ryan asked, with liberal application of air-quotes. The barmaid set a steaming plate of fish and chips down in front of him, and he tucked in.

“Sorting students into a house when they arrive gives them a sense that they belong. It’s comforting. I know from experience.” Shane said, wielding his fork much the way he did his wand. “But I guess it has its downsides. If I’d been sorted into Hufflepuff my family would have disowned me.”

Ryan watched the fine bones of his wrist move where it poked out of his cuff and swallowed hard.

“So, what was magical education in the States like?” Shane asked. “Did I miss out on anything?”

“I hate to admit it, but probably not.” Ryan said. “Maybe it was different at like…Ilvermorny, but at Belasco it was pretty basic. Spells to get you through life. Maths and literacy. Some people sat SATs. We didn’t get much drilling in magical theory, or arithmancy, or Latin, the way pupils do here. More resources, I guess. They didn’t even teach Divination, I learnt about it in my own time.”

“Hey, you’ve still achieved something pretty remarkable,” Shane said. “Not everyone has being a Hogwarts professor in them. Belasco must have done something right.”

“Ha,” Ryan muttered. “I think McGonagall took pity on me.”

“How did you even hear about the job?”

“My old boss used to get copies of newspapers from all over the world. Including the Prophet. I saw it whilst I was using the paper to pack crystal balls away.” Ryan took another mouthful of food. “I wasn’t even going to apply, but the cards told me there was a big upheaval ahead. I took it as a sign.”

“The…cards?”

“Yeah. Like tarot. You know.”

“Yeah,” Shane said.

“You think I’m talking bullshit.” Ryan said.

“No. No, you’re perfectly entitled to your beliefs.”

“But they’re not just beliefs,” Ryan argued. “It’s part of who I am. It’s what I teach, it’s what I’m good at. I know it’s real.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect,” Shane said. “I really don’t. But divination has never helped me; only my own wits and my own instincts.”

“But that’s part of what Divination is!” Ryan said, leaning forward. “Listening to yourself. Letting a higher power guide you.”

Shane’s mouth twisted, in a distinctly ugly fashion. “If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t believe in a higher power.”

“Is that why you stopped being an Auror?” He asked, and immediately cursed himself.

“I‘d rather not talk about it.” Shane said, without anger, and Ryan sighed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna pry.” He said. “But I’ve seen a lot of what you’ve done in the papers. You’re really…one of a kind, as far as I’m concerned.”

The corner of his mouth quirked in an enigmatic smile. “I’m a Madej. Nothing short of remarkable would do.” 

Ryan shoved more food in his mouth, mostly in an attempt to deflect any more conversation. It didn’t work; his mouth seemed to be running away with him tonight. 

“Why does Professor Borden hate you?”

A grimace passed swiftly across Shane’s face before he settled back into his easy smile. 

“She thinks I’m after her job. Transfiguration teacher is pretty prestigious...and less cursed.”

“Are you?” Ryan asked. "After her job, I mean. Not cursed."

“I wouldn’t mind teaching Transfiguration,” Shane mused. “But Defence is good too. Lots of action.”

The rest of the dinner progressed without any more embarrassment, and Ryan still tried to pay his half of the bill. Shane knocked him aside effortlessly, and the two walked back to the castle in more comfortable silence. The stars were bright and clear overhead – no light pollution out here.

“Beautiful,” Ryan breathed, craning his neck back to look at the skies framed by the surrounding trees. “Have you ever seen the centaurs in the Forest? They can read the future from the stars.”

“Yeah,” Shane said. “How do the stars know, though?”

“They see everything,” Ryan said. “The stars are always watching. Or maybe it’s aliens.”

“Aliens?!” Shane turned to him with a delighted smile spreading across his face, only to be cut off by a shrill scream from the entranceway. Shane immediately ran towards the source of the noise, Ryan hot on his heels. There was a tiny figure lying in the grass; it was Evie, with blood running from her nose and mouth.

“Professor!” Someone shrieked, and Ryan realised it was Hannah Greengrass, also crouching over the body. “Oh God, is she dead?”

“Hush, Hannah.” Shane snapped, running his wand over Evie’s prone form. “She’s been hexed. Run and fetch Madame Lytle, now.”

Hannah turned and fled, sobbing as she went. Ryan watched, helpless, as Shane ran his wand over the little girl. Her hair was matted with twigs and leaves; her brown skin was slowly turning sallow. Shane muttered as he went, a language Ryan could not understand. His senses had somehow become crystallised by the adrenaline blasting through him. He blinked and gasped as the trees around him turned bright white, as if in daylight.

“Shane, what-” He asked, and Shane shushed him. He turned, and he saw another girl, dripping wet, standing in the grass. She was about seventeen, with lank brown hair and a pointed nose. She raised an arm, and Ryan realised she was missing a hand.

“Jesus-” He stumbled backwards and into Shane, who swore loudly.

“What are you doing, Bergara?”

“There’s – there’s someone there,” Ryan stammered, but the woods had become dark again, and the girl was gone.

Hannah Greengrass had returned, with Lytle hot on her heels. The woman dropped to her knees beside Shane, and he scooped Evie up into his arms before the two made their way back into the castle.

Ryan stayed behind, frantically scanning the forest for the young woman with the missing hand, but there was no sign.

“Professor?” Someone sniffed, and he realised Hannah was still there. “Is – is Evie going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan breathed, still distracted. “She’s gonna be fine. Someone tried to hex her. But Professor Madej and Madame Lytle have it well under control.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, standing up straight and drying her eyes. “Okay.”

“You did good, kid.” He reached out and patted her on the back. “You really helped.”

“I saw who did it.” She said, voice ringing out in the empty forest. “I saw them run after I screamed.”

“You’d…better come to the Headmistress’ office with me, then.” Ryan breathed, and began the trudge up the stairs.

He was forced to wait outside McGonagall’s office whilst Hannah spoke to her. Out of nowhere, Professor Borden came storming up the stairs, her black robes swishing.

“Where is Ms Greengrass?” She demanded, and Ryan stepped back in astonishment. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” Ryan said. “She’s talking to Professor McGonagall.”

“Thank Merlin,” Borden huffed, practically sagging in relief. “She’s…my niece. We’re very close.”

“She’s totally unharmed. Maybe a little shaken up.” Ryan said. He left her there to wait for her niece, pacing back and forth outside the statue.


	8. An Encounter with the Potters

Evie recovered in the hospital wing, under the keen eye of Madame Lytle. Ryan thought his classroom looked more than a little empty without her cloud of dark hair, and more often than not, Hannah wasn’t present either. When Ryan was passing the hospital wing, he saw Hannah sat next to Evie’s hospital bed reading her the notes she had taken in class. 

Within two days, Evie was sitting up again, and in four she was chattering away as she had before. Hannah stuck it out, nodding along with the other girl’s streams of talk with a quiet smirk. It was almost touching.

McGonagall kept tight-lipped about what Hannah had told her the night of the attack, but Ryan was plagued by the one-handed girl he’d apparently had a vision of. He taught Divination, but nobody just saw the future. Even true Seers issued prophecies in cryptic riddles – they didn’t just hallucinate events.

Maybe he was going crazy. But the forest had illuminated like daylight, in a way that was branded into his memory; there was no way he’d imagined it.

He asked Sara what he knew about the Defence professor.

“Well, the Madejs are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, and a Slytherin legacy.” She said pensively. “I remember their eldest being a very pleasant boy, kept to himself. Went into banking or something. The youngest…Shane? A high-flyer. Head boy, five NEWTs. Well, until his last year.”

“What happened in his last year?” Ryan asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Sara said. “But the portraits below the eighth floor stopped talking about him altogether. And I can only really access the 12th floor. Did you say he’s a teacher here now?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said.

“That’s funny,” Sara said. “I’ve never seen him.”

“He’s been in this classroom?” Ryan said, stunned.

“Gosh. Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention.” Sara tapped her cheek thoughtfully.

The night before Halloween, pumpkins bigger than Ryan’s head somehow sprang up around the castle, with candles flickering inside without melting. Live bats were set loose around the castle, and could be seen divebombing students and occasionally getting tangled in hair. Sometimes, Peeves joined in. 

On his way down to the Halloween feast on the last day of October, he came across a strange scene: a Slytherin boy cowering against a wall as a teen with dark, messy hair pointed his wand at him. 

“And you’re going to stay away from my brother,” The dark-haired boy said. He looked horribly familiar. 

“Fine, whatever,” The Slytherin said. “Just leave me alone.”

“I want to hear you say it,” The dark-haired boy, a Gryffindor, insisted. His red and yellow tie was hanging out over his jumper, barely tied at all. 

“I’ll stay away from Albus,” The Slytherin shook his curls out of his eyes and glowered at the Gryffindor. 

“Hey!” Ryan said, and both boys jumped, the Gryffindor lowering his wand and turning blue eyes on him. Ryan realised it was James Potter; the spitting image of his father, minus the glasses and the green eyes. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing, Professor.” Potter was stony-faced. 

“He attacked me!” The Slytherin said, and James whirled to face him, wand out again.

“Shut your mouth, you bloody snake-”

“Expelliarmus!” Ryan said, disarming James, who stared at him open-mouthed. “You’re coming with me to see Professor Borden.”

The dark-haired boy followed him to the big Transfiguration classroom, dragging his feet sullenly. Borden looked between the two of them with a furrowed brow. 

“Why are you not at the feast, Professor? Mr Potter?”

“He was threatening another student.” Ryan said, holding out James’ wand. 

“Sit down over there for a minute, James,” Borden said, and drew Ryan into the corner. “Who was it?”

“Steven Shepherd,” Ryan said. James had leaned back in his seat immediately and propped his feet up on the desk; Ryan was struck by a sense-memory of another boy with wonky glasses doing the same thing 25 years earlier, as Professor McGonagall lectured from where he and Borden were stood. The castle didn’t forget. 

“A Slytherin?” Borden was wringing her hands. “I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do, you know. His father…”

“You think Harry Potter would be upset that his son was being punished when he was bullying another student?” Ryan said, incredulous. 

“I don’t know,” Borden shrugged, helplessly. Ryan made a decision. 

“Potter, detention. With me, next week.” He said aloud. The words “Potter, detention” seemed to echo down the ages, harking back generations to other times and other teachers and other Potters. Borden stared at him with her lips pursed. 

James huffed. “He deserved it.” 

“Take your wand and go,” Ryan said. When he left the classroom, another, younger, boy was waiting for them. He had a yellow and black tie on. All he had to do was raise an eyebrow at James, and the older boy huffed. 

“Get lost Al, I was doing you a favour.” 

“I don’t need your help, James.” The younger boy – presumably Albus Potter – said. “Steven wasn’t even doing anything. 

“Stupid, slimy Slytherins, always trying to get in our business-” James stomped away, Albus following him with an outreached hand. 

“James, you’re going to miss the feast-”

Ryan watched them go and suddenly felt a terrible longing for his own brother, the voice of reason in their family. 

He went and joined the Halloween feast. The ceiling of the Great Hall was a velvety black; skeletons were placed around the hall at various intervals, and when anyone passed their heads turned to follow their progress. Live bats were flapping in the vaults of the ceiling. Candles covered every surface that wasn’t already covered in platters of food, which wasn’t very much. 

A choir of students clutching massive toads were singing some kind of funeral dirge, conducted by Professor Flitwick. As Ryan made his way round the edge of the crowd to the teachers’ table, they finished the dirge and launched into the Monster Mash, with some students staring at them in puzzlements whilst others sang along. 

Ryan ate so much he thought he might explode. He sat back, rubbing his stomach, and caught Shane watching his doing so with narrowed eyes; with a self-satisfied smirk, he carried on. Professor Slughorn cornered him after dessert, finally convinced that Ryan was worth his time, possibly by the rave reviews Ryan’s class had been receiving.

“You know, there are various potions said to be capable of aiding augury,” He waffled, whilst Ryan stared unseeingly at the treacle tart still on the table. “Perhaps there is some truth to it. My mother put a great deal of stock in reading animal intestines, when we still lived in the countryside, though we had to flee when the farmers realised what was happening to all their cows-”

He couldn’t sleep that night for the sound of water dripping in his room. It wasn’t coming from any of the taps. He’d seen enough horror movies to know not to investigate. But there was something under the floorboards; the voice in the back of his head had told him, and now it was only up to him to decide whether he had the guts to investigate it.

McGonagall was keeping her cards close to her chest about Evie’s assailant, and so rumours ran rampant in the school. Ryan heard students saying that it had been an accident, that there was a murderer on the loose Sirius-Black-style, that Hannah Greengrass had done it and gotten away with it.

“So Evie is good to come back to class?” He asked Madame Lytle, watching the teenager pack her stuff into a duffle in the hospital wing.

“A full recovery,” Lytle confirmed.

“Has she…said anything about what happened? Who attacked her?” Ryan asked, every inch the casual inquirer. Lytle was tall and white-blonde, an imposing figure in sharp contrast to her profession. Ryan saw an intense sincerity in the corners of her eyes, however; every so often she would break into a sweet, self-effacing laugh, and you understood why she’d chosen healing. He was still struggling to get a read on Shane the way he could others.

“What are the chances of there being a second basilisk?” Lytle said.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Ryan said. “I hate snakes.”

“She says she doesn’t remember,” Lytle shook her head. “Hannah Greengrass though…she told me she saw someone run from the scene. Tall, black cloak. You didn’t hear it from me.”

Evie came back to class but seemed subdued. Hannah sat with her, talking loudly and making a show of enjoying herself, as if to encourage the other girl to participate again. It didn’t appear to work, however. Ryan focused on ensuring nobody dropped their crystal balls.

“So you don’t want to come into Hogsmeade with me tonight?” Shane asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway to Ryan’s classroom, as students filtered out. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “I’ve got some marking to do. Another time.” 

“Oh, okay then,” Shane said. “Look, I don’t want to pry but…is everything okay?”

Ryan sat in silence for a long time, staring at the rain pattering the windows, wondering if he should tell Shane the full truth. Shane waited patiently, unimposing. 

“Walk with me to my office,” Shane said when the silence became unbearable, and the two went, Ryan describing what he had seen the night of the attack as they went. Students saw them walking together and burst into giggles, whispering to one another. Ryan ignored them.

“So, the whole forest suddenly lit up, and you saw a girl?” Shane said, leaning back in his office chair as Ryan paced. “What did she look like?”

“She was maybe…17. Mousy hair. Soaked in water. And she – she only had one hand,” 

Ryan gulped. Shane didn’t reply, and when Ryan looked up he had gone deathly pale. 

“One hand?” Shane whispered.

“Yeah?” Ryan said, and Shane scrambled to his feet.

“I have to run.” He said, and run he did, leaving Ryan alone in Shane’s office.

He took the opportunity to snoop, though he hated to indulge his nosier side; there were the clippings on the wall that he had already seen, a fearsome NEWT record, an Auror Training Diploma (top marks across the board) hanging on the wall. A small, non-descript painting of the castle in spring with the grass gently waving back and forth. A photograph of Shane looking solemnly at the camera in full Auror gear, and a photograph of him with another man (a brother?) looking slightly less grim. 

The office was a miasma of conflicting energies, a lot of sorrow and pain. If he relaxed and focused, his mind’s eye could see a man with mousy hair and scarred hands pacing in front of a sheet of parchment open on the desk; plates with moving cats on them bolted to the wall; another man with lavender robes flinging everything indiscriminately into a trunk. 

He opened a cupboard and peered inside. There was a stone basin in there with unusual runes carved around the edge, thought it was empty. Behind the basin, a set of dark red robes were hanging with a pair of leather vambraces strung around the hanger.

There were various papers on the desk – essays and articles, and then something with Top Secret: MoM Official stamped in the corner. Ryan realised that he was in far too deep and fled.


	9. Duelling Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays everyone!

Shane showed up for dinner that night looking vaguely nauseous and ignored Ryan in favour of picking at his food. As Ryan was leaving, Shane grabbed his wrist, spinning round in his seat to look up at him. 

“I just wanted to, uh, double check…it was definitely a teenage girl? With one hand?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s what I saw.”

“What you thought you saw.” Shane said, face blank. 

“I know I saw something,” Ryan said.

“Come on, Ryan.” Shane said. “Are you sure? How do you know that the – the stress of the attack didn’t get to you? I’ve seen people go absolutely wild in the heat of the moment, you know?”

“So,” Ryan pulled his hand out of Shane’s grasp and folded his arms. “You think I just made it up?”

“No, not like that,” Shane backtracked. “I’m just saying, stuff like that gets to people.”

“You have no idea what kind of stuff I’ve seen,” Ryan said. “Maybe we’re not all bigshot Aurors, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to go loopy at the sight of a little blood.”

“Ryan-”

“I know what I saw,” Ryan insisted, even though he was starting to doubt himself. He just didn’t want to admit being wrong to Shane.

“Fine,” Shane said, looking away, across the babbling students. A couple of them had noticed him and Shane bickering, glancing shiftily up at the teachers’ table. “You’re right. I don’t know what you’ve seen.”

“Look…it’s scary,” Ryan finally admitted. “Everyone said Hogwarts has been the safest place in the world since the Second War ended.”

“That’s not true,” Shane muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you’re worried that the attacker is still on the loose, then…maybe I could teach you a couple things? Some defence?” Shane skilfully avoided the question. 

“Like…sit in on your class again? You remember how that went the last time?” Ryan snorted.

“I was thinking more one-on-one.” Shane shrugged, effortlessly nonchalant. 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright.” Ryan said, wondering what good it would do. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” Shane said, rising fluidly to his feet and smirking down at Ryan before striding out of the hall.

He spent the next day distracted, worrying about what Shane might have planned for him. It wasn’t that he suspected Shane of foul play (though god knew how the Defence teacher was going to put his foot in his mouth this time) but he was suddenly intensely afraid of looking a fool, in a way he hadn’t been since he was a teenager. 

Well, that wasn’t true; he spent a lot of time bluffing his way around his lack of magical talent with everyone he met, but he found that he particularly didn’t want Shane to know. He didn’t want to see that piteous look that he’d noticed on so many faces, every time he’d failed to meet even the bare minimum. The way the Careers Officer had looked at him when he told her he was interested in Divination, and she’d gently suggested that working with his hands might be more his speed instead, based on his aptitude scores. Maybe he should take the SAT. Try for a No Maj college. 

“Professor?” His musings were interrupted by a voice, and he turned round, half-expecting to see Evie hanging around after his class again. He was surprised to see Hannah Greengrass instead. 

“Hey Hannah,” He said. 

“Have you got a minute?” She asked, grimacing vaguely. Ryan noticed her hands clutched tightly around the straps of her bag. 

“Sure,” He said. “What’s happening?”

“I…I think I’m going crazy,” She said, sitting down heavily on the chair opposite his desk. 

“Why do you think that?” Ryan asked, kicking his feet up on the desk. Hannah’s grip on the bag loosened minutely. 

“The night that Evie got attacked…” She said in a low voice. “I think. I think I saw Professor Madej.” 

Ryan’s feet slipped off the desk and hit the floor with a thump.

“You can’t have,” He said without thinking. 

“That’s why I think I’m going crazy!” She said. 

“Hannah, Shane – Professor Madej was with me all evening.” Ryan said. 

“This is why I think I’m going crazy!” She moaned. 

The girl he’d seen in the forest flashed across his mind. “There was definitely…something going on, that night,” He said slowly. “But I wouldn’t jump to crazy straight off the bat. There is an explanation for everything.”

“You teach Divination.” Hannah sniffed. 

“So sometimes the explanation is, ‘I can see the future’” Ryan said brightly. “You’d better get to your next class.”

After Hannah’s claims, he almost wanted to cancel the practice with Shane. But he’d said he would go, so he made his way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom that night as the rain rattled the windows outside. Shane was waiting for him, pacing up and down in front of the desks. 

“Yeah, so, I thought we could go over some duelling drills. The stuff I was teaching on the day you sat in.”

“Okay. I’m no good at duelling though,” Ryan said.

“What? You were pretty good the other day,” Shane said, throwing his robes casually over the back of the chair and rolling his shirt sleeves up. Ryan wasn’t sure how to tell him that he had no control over how and when his magic kicked it up a gear; it had always been an adrenaline thing. 

“Right, so-” 

Present. Stance. Shane let off the first hex, Ryan blocked – hypothetically – and then stepped forward into the attack. Return volley. Shield charm. Stupefy. 

“And that should be it.” Shane said, standing up straight again. 

“Seems too easy.” Ryan muttered, scratching at the back of his neck with his wand.

“Don’t do that, you’ll blow your brains out,” Shane chided. “This is just the first step. This is official Auror training, baby!”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Present!”

Stance. Block. Step. Return. Shield. Stupefy!

“You’re not quite getting it,” Shane said. “Show me your attack stance again?”

Ryan did so. Shane crossed the room towards him and put his hands on his shoulders.

“You need to keep your back straighter. Here.” He moved around behind him and put his hands on his hips, shifting him until he was forced to engage his core and lift his head higher. “Now, arm flat. Lock your elbow. Find your line of sight.” Ryan could feel breath on the back of his neck as Shane reached out and adjusted his arm, still standing close at his back. “Can’t you feel the way magic will flow through you?”

“Uhh…no.” Ryan admitted, and felt Shane’s chuckle as a vibration at his back more than a sound.

“The stance allows you to use your whole body to give your attack power. When you defend, you keep your weight back to avoid an attack knocking you off balance. Make sense?” He was practically murmuring in his ear. Ryan turned his head to hear him better, felt the ghost of stubble against the back of his neck, and suddenly Shane was stepping away. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Run through it again.” He said, avoiding eye contact. “Perform the spells for real.”

Ryan did so, trying to find the flow that Shane was talking about. He tried to clear his mind, looking for that little voice that told him how to stay alive, but he could hear nothing but doubts. He was hyper aware of Shane standing a few feet away, watching his every move. 

And his shield charm fizzled like a wet firework; the stupefication went wildly off course.

“I don’t understand it,” Shane said. “I saw you defend yourself in that first week like a pro. Are you…pretending?”

“I don’t even know what you’re accusing me of,” Ryan said, despairing. “I dunno, I feel like – when I’m in the heat of the moment, when I’m in danger, everything just goes quiet. And I can perform. But otherwise, magic just doesn’t co-operate with me. Why do you think I prefer Divination?”

“Whack,” Shane muttered, and Ryan burst out laughing. “Look, you need to relax! Do what you were doing in class the other day. Clear your mind and see the bigger picture.”

Shane stepped forward, effortlessly sliding into the attack stance. His wand slashed through the stale classroom air and the shield sprang into being with a crack; another swipe and a jet of red light exploded across the desks, leaving a black scorch mark on the far wall. The noise echoed relentlessly off the high arched ceilings, causing Ryan’s ears to ring.

“Jesus Christ, sir,” He said. Shane stood up straight again, casually shoving his wand into his back pocket.

They continued going through the drill, Shane never even picking up his wand again, until Ryan thought his hand was going to drop off. It was hopeless; no matter how Shane described it, he couldn’t feel the magic flow. It fizzled and sputtered, getting caught up in his elbows and knees and then struggling out through the end of his wand only to die a lonely death in the air. Shane was surprisingly patient with him, but he could tell that his obvious lack of ability baffled him.

“It’s late,” He said, rubbing at his wrist. “Thanks for the help. I can sleep easy again.”

“It was my pleasure,” Shane said, with a small smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Ryan was strangely buoyant all the way back up the stairs, despite the wild storm outside. He almost felt like whistling a tune. Of course, it all changed when he reached his classroom, and noted the way the shadows seemed to stretch longer than normal, how the people were all missing from the portraits on the walls. The fire he had left lit had burned out completely.

He moved through to his room and was struck by an extraordinary fear that was not his own. The rain rattling the window-panes seemed to decrease in volume, and the girl rose from the floorboards.

“Oh, God,” Ryan muttered. “You again.”

She stepped forward, holding out one stump wrist as if pleading.

“Please. Shane. Help me.” Her mouth moved, but her voice seemed to be travelling from a great distance. Water spattered on the floorboards.

“Who are you?” Ryan asked, drawing his wand. “ _Finite incantatum!_ ” She continued to shuffle across the old floorboards. “ _Revelio!_ ”

“Shane!” She called, and Ryan stumbled backwards until he hit the door.

“What do you want?” He asked, voice cracking with fear. “Who are you?!”

Lightning lit the room as if it were day, and when the spots had cleared from Ryan’s vision she was gone. The floor was totally dry. He immediately turned and fled, back down the stairs and through the hallways to the Defence classroom. His heart was hammering in his ears.

He hesitated before knocking on the door, remembering how Shane had questioned what he’d seen before. But a rumble of thunder jolted him, and he had thrown the door open before he knew what he was doing.

Shane was sitting reading, his waistcoat open and shirt sleeves rolled up, sock feet up on the desk. He looked up, startled, as Ryan barrelled in.

“Jesus, what’s happened? Another attack?”

“No, no, it’s-” Ryan panted, leaning his hands on his knees to try and get his breath back. “I saw her again.”

“What? Your weird vision?” Shane closed his book slowly.

“Yeah. God this is going to sound wild but…do you believe in ghosts?”

Shane squinted at him. “Of course I believe in ghosts. We have several living with us here, in the castle. Have you not met any?”

“No, I mean like, the No Maj version of ghosts. Unquiet spirits.”

“Ryan, Muggles can’t become ghosts-”

“Yeah they can!” Ryan said, standing upright again. “They can, and there is proof that they can.”

“Ryan, you sound ridiculous-”

“She said your name!” Ryan shouted. Shane shut his mouth with an audible click, jaw clenched. “I know there’s something going on here, and I know you’re mixed up in this somehow. Professor Borden warned me about you.”

“ _Borden?!_ ” Shane started to get out his chair.

“I know you think I’m just a worthless Muggleborn who can’t do magic and hallucinates under pressure but damn it, Madej, I know what I saw.” Ryan finished, almost panting. Madej sat back down again.

“I believe you, Ryan.” He said softly. “I do, I swear. But the mind plays tricks-”

“Fuck you.” Ryan said, and turned and left.


	10. Evie Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new year new me and im gonna finish this fic even if it means i fail all my classes

He went back to his room and slept on the couch by the fireplace instead of returning to the bedroom. And he didn’t actually sleep; he just stared at the flickering flames whilst ghoulish images ran through his head. The girl. Madej’s face, drained of blood. Professor Borden hissing into his ear.

The boys at his old school, staring down at him as he spat blood and gravel and tried to scramble to his feet.

_“Thinks he’s better than us. You should stay down. Mudblood.”_

He bolted upright, a cold sweat prickling his forehead. It had been a few years since he had nightmares like that. Hands shaking, he poked the fire until it struggled back to life, and watched the weak sunlight breaking over the lake through the diamond window panes.

He hadn’t always been like this, so afraid, so out of touch with his own ability. But certain…experiences had changed him, made him overly introspective and too prone to doubt. Some days, bad days, he felt the loss as keenly as he could still feel the dirt under his cheek as he had hit the ground. 

He pottered down to the greenhouses in the grey dawn light. He saw Hagrid lumbering his way across the pumpkin patch and waved. 

Professor Longbottom was already there, pruning his wormwood plants. An affable man with a round face and hair greying at the temples, Longbottom had happily agreed to let Ryan use a corner of one of the greenhouses to grow tea leaves. Ryan had charmed a bottle to mist the plants with water regularly. He sat down and got to work repotting the plants that had developed leaves. Longbottom left him to it; he understood the restorative properties of gardening in silence. 

Eventually, a ghostly cat appeared in the middle of the house.

“Staff meeting, Professor Longbottom, Professor Bergara. Immediately.” He set the pots down gently and followed Longbottom up to the school, seeing Madame Lytle emerge from the hospital wing and pulling on a dressing gown. Professor McGonagall was pacing at the head of the Great Hall, the tables left as they were from the night before. Madej was there, hair even more flyaway than usual, but Ryan avoided his eye.

“Another pupil was attacked last night!” McGonagall called, causing the room to lapse into utter silence. Sprout clutched her nightcap to her chest in horror. “Professor Borden discovered Mr Eliot this morning in the third-floor corridor. Fortunately, he will escape the curse unharmed, with the careful work of Madame Lytle; however, we have a grave danger in our midst.”

“Was it the same curse used on Evie Adeola?” Madej asked.

“We believe so. No eyewitnesses this time.” McGonagall shook her head, her tall hat drooping with worry. “Professor Madej, I very much hope you will assist me in this matter. We could use your expertise.” Madej simply inclined his head. Whispers broke out amongst a couple of the other teachers.

A hand latched onto Ryan’s elbow, and he jumped.

“Professor Bergara? A word?” Borden murmured in his ear, and he followed her back out the door and down the corridor to the Transfiguration classroom.

“You okay, Professor?” He asked, as she hurried up to her desk at the front of the room, surrounded by models of animal skeletons. “You found the victim?”

“Yes,” She said, leaning on her desk for a moment. Ryan got a strange vibe from her; she was uneasy, constantly, but not necessarily suspicious. Just…awkward. “It was disquieting.”

“Yeah,” Ryan muttered. “That’s one word for it.”

“Madej’s involvement only makes me more uneasy,” She said.

“Why do you hate him so much?” Ryan asked. “What has he done?”

“I warned McGonagall. I said, anyone who has seen violence and death like that isn’t going to be a good influence on children.”

“He seems like a good teacher-”

“Has he told you what happened to him here?” She said, looking up at him with steely blue eyes. “In his last year?”

“…no?”

“A girl was murdered, and Madej was the only witness. Another man was convicted, but you know, the way it looked…rumours ran wild.” 

The room was very quiet; over Borden’s shoulder, the skeleton of a raven glared at him with empty eye sockets. The classroom was lacking in personal touches, except for the single Gryffindor pennant sticking out of the pen pot on the desk. 

“Why?! Who would accuse a seventeen-year-old of murder?” Ryan broke the silence with a cry.

“His family, their reputation!” Borden began to pace, wringing her hands awkwardly. “The wrong side of the second war, an ignoble return to society afterwards. All their hopes were pinned on their children, and that accusation was the last nail in the coffin.”

“No. No,” Ryan said, but he remembered the ghost that had called Shane’s name.

“He’s not to be trusted.” Borden folded her hands in front of her. “You understand me, right?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ryan asked, and Borden buried her face in her hands.

“I thought the boy was dead. I thought it had happened again,” She said, and her shoulders began to shake. “It was…the same curse that killed the girl. The same one.”

Ryan crossed the room and reached out, awkwardly patting her on the back. He thought Hogwarts would be a fresh start for him, but here he was, unable to tell what to think again.

 _Opposites attract, but beware infatuation._

McGonagall instated a curfew for students. Ryan got put on a rota escorting first years back and forth, and occasionally he saw Madej passing in the corridors. He was impossible to miss – he was probably a foot and a half taller than most kids. His students sat in his class and stared down at their tea cups, except for Evie, who sat and stared out the window.

James Potter arrived at the tower for his detention in a foul temper. Ryan set him to work polishing the crystal balls from last week and packing them back in their crates with the newspaper lining. Ryan sat and marked essays on Cassandra until he was rudely startled by the sound of a crystal ball crashing to the floor. 

“Jesus H Christ,” Ryan yelped. James wasn’t paying any attention: he was staring transfixed at a newspaper clipping in his hand, an angry furrow forming between his eyebrows. “James?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry, Professor,” James said, shaking his head and throwing the newspaper clipping into the crate with a grimace. 

“It’s fine, kid,” Ryan said, and pointed his wand at the shards of glass. 

Nothing happened. Ryan hummed awkwardly and tried again. “ _Reparo!_ ” 

The shards quivered somewhat, rearranging themselves into a different scattered pile. Ryan flushed, avoiding James’ eyes. 

“ _Reparo,_ ” The boy said, and the ball reformed itself. 

“Thanks,” Ryan muttered. “You can go now. I’ll finish this myself.” 

James gave him a tight smile and practically threw himself down the trapdoor. Ryan picked up the newspaper clipping that had distracted him.

_BOY WHO LIVED ABANDONS AUROR DEPARTMENT._

It was from the Daily Prophet, dated 2007. Ryan scrumpled it up without reading the body of the article and threw it straight in the fire. 

He passed Madej in a side corridor with Hannah Greengrass on the way to dinner that night, and paused to listen.

“Look, your grandparents just asked me to check in on you-”

“Yeah, well, it’s none of their business!” Hannah hissed back. “I’m fine. I actually finally have a friend in this godforsaken castle.”

“Are you ever planning on telling me what you actually saw?” 

“Professor Borden said I shouldn’t talk to you.” Hannah said scornfully.

“You know she hates me-” He paused, and then Ryan heard footsteps, and he was walking away by the time Madej poked his head round the corner.

Evie continued to underperform in class, to the point where Ryan was considering intervening. She stared unseeing into the crystal ball as Ryan walked amongst the desks.

“Don’t try too hard to see, even though that sounds…dumb,” He said. “Part of the charm of the crystal ball is that it’s stubborn for those trying to see something that isn’t there. Use the meditation techniques we practiced to clear your mind, and the crystal ball might have something to show you.”

But at the end of that day he found her lurking after everyone had left the room once again.

“Hey Professor Bergara,” She said, considerably quieter than usual. Even her hair seemed to droop, lacking its usual curl.

“Is everything alright, Evie?” He asked, packing away the crystal balls in their newspaper beds.

“Yeah.” She said.

“Cool,” Ryan said. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

“Um…yes please,” She said, and Ryan drew up two chairs in front of the fire before setting the kettle on to boil. They both sat in silence, Evie with both hands wrapped securely round her cup as she sipped at it.

“I don’t need to read your tea leaves to know you’re not alright, Evie,” He said finally. “You’re your parents been to see you?”

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she blinked down at her half-empty tea cup. Ryan summoned a box of tissues, which overshot and fell into the fire, and then summoned another with a little more success.

“I can’t-” She blew her nose loudly. “I can’t stop thinking about that night. The attack. I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate in class. I feel – so stupid.”

“Shhh, it’s not stupid. Not stupid at all,” Ryan said. “It’s very, very normal. Really, you probably should have...gone home or something, instead of going straight back to class.”

“I couldn’t,” She sniffed. “It’s just me and my mum, and she was on a business trip in Asia. She – she sent an owl though. Telling me she was glad I was okay.”

“Have you spoken to Professor Flitwick?”

“No,” She blew her nose again. “I can’t stop thinking about him. There was this – this tall man, in a black cape. He grabbed me as I was walking down the grand staircase. Then the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital wing. And I can’t – I can’t go down the grand staircase anymore! I get all, all sweaty, and I can’t hear anyone talk, and I’m just so afraid-” A sob escaped her. “I haven’t been to any meals in a week!”

“Jesus,” Ryan muttered, and summoned a packet of chocolate biscuits from his study. “Here, have as many as you need. Did you say…a tall man?”

“I dunno, it all happened so fast,” Evie said, nervously nibbling on a bourbon. “I think it was a man. They were definitely tall. But they were wearing these long red robes, with the hood up.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Ryan said. “You need to know, Evie, that it takes time to get over things like this. But you’ll heal, with time and distance. It helps to tell people how you’re feeling though, like me, or Professor Flitwick.”

“How – how’d you know?”

“Well,” Ryan huffed, staring at the fire. “I got in a…a fight, when I was sixteen. Got beat up pretty bad. Not quite the same, but it took me a little while to stop being afraid.”

“I can’t imagine you getting into a fight with anyone,” Evie said, tears slowly starting to dry.

“I didn’t really start it,” Ryan said. “Right, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to finish the tea and have as many biscuits as you want. I’m going to write you a note for Professor Borden, so you don’t get in trouble for missing Transfiguration. Then I’m going to go and speak to Professor Flitwick for you, and he can make sure you’re not still struggling, okay?”

“…yeah, okay,” Evie whispered.

“Have you told any of your friends?”

“I kinda told Hannah,” She said.

“Try telling her how you’ve been feeling,” He said. “Maybe she can help you get down the grand staircase. Does that sound like a plan of action?”

“Yeah,” Evie said, wiping her nose one more time and then sitting up straight. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He said. “Have another biscuit.”

A knock came at the door, and Hannah Greengrass poked her head into the classroom. She was out of breath.

“Professor – oh, Evie, you’re in here. I was worried about you. You don’t miss class, like, ever.”

“I was just talking to Professor Bergara about…Divination stuff,” Evie said, dabbing quickly at her red eyes.

“Well, it’s time for lunch,” Hannah said. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Evie said, putting the cup down and bounding to her feet. “I’m starving. What did you do in Transfiguration?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah! I don’t want to fall behind, and Professor Borden is a very good teacher – I’ve heard she’s not a patch on the Headmistress, but I think she’s great, and her lessons are always super interesting, but then again if we were just doing rats into teacups again I’m not missing out…” Evie’s voice faded out as the two girls made their way down the stairs, and Ryan settled down into his chair, satisfied with a job well done.

When he went to the fourth-floor staffroom to find Flitwick, he heard Madej’s voice booming from inside.

“Can’t…poisoning other teachers against me! I don’t…family name, and Ryan…because of you! I had nothing to…caught the guy who did it, and…anymore!”

The door suddenly flew open and Lara Borden stormed past, leaving Ryan standing in the vast canyon of space that was the empty doorway. Shane looked right at him, and he was frozen like a deer in the headlights.

“Aren’t you fed up with eavesdropping?” Shane asked coldly.

“Aren’t you fed up with being a dick?” Ryan replied, and Shane slumped like a puppet that had had its strings cut.

“Look, Ryan, I’m-”

“Save it,” Ryan said, but Shane grabbed his wrist before he could follow in the footsteps of Professor Borden.

“Please,” He said, and something in his voice made Ryan pause. “I am…really sorry.”

“Yeah?” Ryan said.

“Yeah,” Shane said. “And that’s a free apology, because if I recall correctly, I already issued a blanket apology for everything I might say in the future.”

“Right…” Ryan said. “But, if you read the contract closely, you’ll see that the blanket apology clause becomes null and void if the apology dinner is interrupted by a sudden cursed student.”

“Alright. It’s not a free apology. But I’m still sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Ryan sighed.

“I could…buy you another apology dinner?” Shane suggested. “So this time the blanket apology is effective?”

“Sure,” Ryan said. “But this time I’m buying.”

“I don’t mind-”

“I do.” Ryan said firmly, and Shane nodded. Ryan was suddenly intensely aware of the long, warm fingers wrapped round his wrist, and both sets of eyes flickered downwards at the same time. Shane did not let go, however, until there was the sound of quick footsteps and Flitwick appeared in the doorway by Ryan’s legs. Shane whipped his hand away like it had been burned, rubbing it sheepishly, but not taking his eyes off Ryan’s.

“Hello Professor Bergara,” Flitwick chirped. “Don’t have the privilege of your company down here very often. I’ve been hearing quite the buzz about your class.”

“Yeah, hi, Professor,” Ryan said, finally breaking eye contact with Shane. “I was hoping to talk to you about Evie Adeola?”

“What about her?” Shane asked, eyes narrowing.

“Something…private,” Ryan said.

“Yes, yes, my boy,” Flitwick waved Shane away. “Let me get a cup of tea and then we can talk in my classroom.”

So Ryan told Flitwick everything that Evie had told him, leaving out the description of her attacker, as the two walked through the corridors. Somehow, despite his short stature, Flitwick had no trouble keeping up with Ryan.

“Yes, I see the issue completely,” He said, thoughtfully combing through his white beard. “You know, her mother is Head of Finance for Nimbus Brooms? Very high-powered woman. Very little time for her daughter.”

“Right,” Ryan said.

“I’ll talk to her, and her mother. She’s a very bright girl; don’t want her to fall behind. Good day, Ryan!” He said brightly, and vanished into his classroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Ryan turned to go and ran almost head first into Borden, looming over him. She was probably actually taller than he was, though Ryan was loath to admit it.

“Were you talking about Evie?” She asked, and Ryan frowned.

“…yeah. Privately.”

“Has she told you anything about the night she was attacked?”

“No.” Ryan said, unconvincingly, and Borden narrowed her eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, Ryan, that I am very concerned with the state of the Headmistress’ investigation into these attacks. I rather think an investigation independent of Shane Madej would be the most appropriate action.”

“You should really…talk to Professor McGonagall about that,” Ryan said, and she reached out to grip his arm with one slender white hand.

“Ryan…students are in danger. I’ve seen this before-”

“Lara?” Ryan heard, and saw Shane standing behind Borden with a pleasantly inquisitive look on his face.

“I hope you can find the time to consider my concerns,” Borden said brusquely, before sweeping away down the corridor.

“What was that about?” Shane asked. His tone was mild, but something sharp behind the eyes betrayed his true feelings.

“Evie Adeola missed a class today,” Ryan said. “I was explaining why to her.”

“Why?”

“It’s, uh, between me and Evie.” Ryan said, and Shane shrugged.

“Cool. You wanna do dinner next week?”

“Yeah, alright.” Ryan said, fiddling with his cuffs. “See you.”

“See you.”


	11. The Hogwarts Killer

He hurried in the same direction as Professor Borden until he reached the Transfiguration classroom, knocking once before going straight in.

“Ryan,” She said, whirling around from where she had been stooped over her desk with her back to the door.

“What year was Shane in seventh year?” He asked, not even releasing the door handle.

“What?”

“When was Shane in his last year at Hogwarts?” He insisted.

“Um, 2002.” She said, clutching at something behind her.

“Right. Thanks,” He said, ducking out and pulling the door shut again behind him. He hustled straight to the library, glancing over his shoulder to check that he wasn’t being followed, and got Kristen Chirico to lead him to the newspaper archives.

The archives were just two shelves with newspapers stacked three-deep on all sides. When Ryan spoke aloud, the relevant papers flew out of their places and into his hands, somewhat more violently than was strictly useful. 

2002, November the 21st – the front page of the Prophet. _HOGWARTS STUDENT FOUND DEAD._

_A seventeen-year-old student, Maisie MacTavish been found dead in the grounds of Britain’s foremost wizarding school. Professor M. McGonagall, Headmistress, assured our representative that a full investigation was being held with the assistance of the Auror Department._

_This parent questions whether Hogwarts remains the safe haven it has been viewed as throughout history – despite a variety of disasters between 1991 and 1997, culminating in-_

Ryan put the paper down, not interested in any opinion published in the Prophet.

“Do you have anything else about Maisie MacTavish?” He asked the archive. The papers fluttered until a new headline appeared.

_HOGWARTS KILLER BROUGHT TO JUSTICE_

_The man suspected of four murders, including that of Hogwarts student Maisie MacTavish, was killed today in a showdown with Ministry Aurors on the Saddleworth Moors. Darius Greengrass had fled to-_

“Holy shit,” Ryan muttered aloud, then glanced around quickly to make sure no students were listening. Surely…surely it was another Greengrass? These pure blood families were everywhere, and they married one another to ensure that the “name” or whatever was kept alive. It must be a cousin, or something similar.

“Could I see all your articles on Shane Madej please?” He said, and immediately papers exploded in all directions; too many headlines to see or count. The _Prophet_ , the _Star_ , the _Report_. “Alright, I get it. Articles on Darius Greengrass?”

A single broadsheet hit him in the face. _AUROR ACCUSES MINISTRY OFFICIAL OF MURDER_

 _The Auror Department said today in an unofficial statement that they suspected Darius Greengrass, a senior minister in the Department for Magical Transport, in the murder of Maisie MacTavish. Greengrass disappeared on his way to work over a month ago. His official status prior to today was_ missing. _Rising star in the department, Auror Madej stated today that-_

__

__

Well, there was surely only one Auror Madej in 2011.

A photograph of a tall man with a bristly head and an ill-fitting suit was holding out a hand to the camera and shielding a woman with white-blonde hair from the attention of a press as they walked down the steps of a terraced house. Ryan thought he could catch a glimpse of a small girl clutching the woman’s hand, but perhaps he was only seeing what he expected to see. 

Another paper drifted gently into his hand, a further back page from _The Wizarding Age_. No headline this time. Just a small square amongst the news from London.

_Wife of Notorious Serial Killer Found Dead._

_Esther Greengrass, wife of the Hogwarts Killer Darius Greengrass, has been found dead in her London home. The local Auror division assures the Age that they suspect no foul play…_

Ryan stared at the dreadful narrative laid out before him. A murder witnessed and revenged upon six years later, if Borden was telling the truth, and Ryan did not doubt she was. A family torn apart. He heard the rustling of paper, and realised his hands were shaking.

“You can buy spring pouchong tea in Hogsmeade,” Ryan said, filling the pot with water. “I used to have to get it imported in the States, the real stuff, and it cost quite a bit,”

“Oh yeah?” Madame Lytle – _call me Devin_ – said, folding her hands neatly on her lap.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Didn’t get much chance to read tea leaves.”

“Don’t suppose you have any coffee?” Devin asked, eyes twinkling.

“You can actually read coffee grounds too, or so the Turks claim,” Ryan said. “But I only have tea.”

He poured a generous serving into Devin’s mug and she wrapped her hands round it gratefully, long nails tapping against the porcelain.

“So how are you finding teaching?” She asked.

“It’s honestly fantastic,” Ryan said. “And if you’d told me a year ago I’d think as much, I would have laughed at you,”

“Life can be funny like that,” She murmured.

“Did you go to Hogwarts?”

“No,” She said, taking a careful sip of the hot, murky tea. She left a purple imprint on the rim of the cup. “The Atlanta Academy. Then nursing school in London,”

“Nursing school?”

“Magic isn’t the be all and end all of healing,” She said. “I thought we actually had a lot to learn from Muggles. And it was super interesting.”

“That’s cool,” He said. “And then you got the job here?”

“Yup,” She said, popping the P. “What about you, where are you from?”

“California,” He said. “The Belasco School of Magic. Truly, an institute dedicated to the education and wellbeing of its students.”

“I guess it was kind of a shithole?” Devin said, smirking into her tea.

“An understatement, but if we really wanted to have that conversation we’d have to swap the tea for vodka,” Ryan said.

“God, we’re gonna be such a good influence on these teenagers,” Devin said, and the two clinked their tea cups together in a toast.

“Hey, do you…what’s Professor Borden’s deal?” Ryan asked, and Devin paused, tapping thoughtfully at the rim of the cup.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“She’s been…telling me some stuff. Wondered if it was something she pulled on all the new teachers.” He said.

“Well, first off, we don’t get many new teachers,” She said. “Once they’re here, they don’t tend to go. And second, what has she been telling you?”

“Stuff about Shane,” Ryan said, staring into the still surface of his tea. “His past.”

“Are you and him…a thing?”

“No,” Ryan said, trying not to sound like he was protesting too much. “No, I’m not interested.”

“Well,” Devin said. “He’s a complicated guy. The Madej family are, frankly, terrifying.”

“Yeah?”

“They were fringe supporters of Voldemort; not enough to go to jail but enough to lose any kind of public respect,” Devin continued, sipping the tea. “Lotta pressure on the kids to save face.”

“I’ve heard that much,” Ryan said.

“But Shane’s always been an enigma. The Auror Department’s Golden Child who just up and quit for no apparent reason. They send him owls every month begging him to come back.” She said.

“Wow,” Ryan muttered. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” She said, and handed the tea cup over. He checked it in the grey light filtering through the window panes. As he looked up, a sense-memory overtook him of a warm spring day, a young man with red hair sitting across from a woman with huge glasses and several layered headscarves on top of one another. The young man was peering desperately into a crystal ball and lying. 

A polite cough from Devin dispelled the memory, and he returned to the cup. 

“Have you just started dating someone new?” He asked.

“Yeah!” She clapped her hands together, delighted. “Is it going to go well?”

“I’d say so,” Ryan said, pursing his lips as he tried to discern the shapes in the grainy tea leaves. “Yeah. Good things are in store.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Devin said. A distant bell rang, and she began to pack her things away in her satchel. “I’ll let you get back to shaping young minds.”

“Sure,” Ryan huffed, scouring the tea cups with a spell. He didn’t even bother to check out his own.

“Look, Ryan,” Devin said. “Lara is…a little neurotic, and she has a tendency to blow things out of proportion. But secrets aside, Shane comes with a lot – a lot – of baggage. I’m not trying to warn you off. Just something to bear in mind, ya know?” And with a flip of her blond hair, she had left.

On his way down to the Grand Entrance, Ryan walked straight through a ghostly grey man with an almost offensively large ruff and skidded to a halt.

“Nick! Wait!” He yelled, and the ghost slowed to a halt, turning slowly to squint at him.

“That’s Sir Nicholas to you, Professor,” He said.

“Sorry, Sir Nicholas,” Ryan said hastily. “Have you got a minute?”

“I’m dead, I have all of eternity.” The ghost said. 

“I just-” Suddenly, all of the questions he’d ever thought of had vanished from his brain. “How are you still here?”

“Plainly put, I was so terrified of death that I simply refused to move on to the other side,” Nick sniffed. “Why do you ask, my boy? Have you lost a loved one? It’s very uncommon for anyone to become a ghost, Hogwarts is just unique in its age and history-”

“No, no, I’m – do you ever see anything else? Like, uh, Muggles becoming ghosts, you know? The unquiet dead?”

Nick’s face turned grim – grimmer than it already was, at least. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What have you seen?”

“There’s something in the Divination tower.” Ryan said. “There’s…something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nick said again. “And I certainly have nothing to say about Professor Trelawney’s resignation.”

“I just – wait, what?!” Ryan demanded, but Nick was already gliding away.


	12. An Independent Investigation

“So…ghosts,” Shane said, shoving his fork into his pasta at abandon in the Three Broomsticks that night. “You’re all for ‘em, huh?”

“…yeah,” Ryan said warily. “I’m for ghosts.”

“How does that work?”

“Well, nobody’s really sure,” Ryan said. “But many people have recorded evidence of people…remaining on this plane. There’s a lot of scientific support for it.”

Shane looked at him with narrowed eyes. “When wizards don’t die, it’s because of magic.”

“Yeah, I know what ghosts are,” Ryan said. “I know all that shit. But you really need to check out some of this No Maj ghost stuff, dude. It’s interesting.”

“I just…don’t find it particularly compelling,” Shane said, leaning back in his chair and hiking his sleeves up.

“How come wizards can come back from the dead, but No Majs can’t?” Ryan complained.

“A, they’re not coming back from the dead,” Shane said, counting on his fingers like a prick. “And B, because we’re magic and they’re not.”

Ryan stared at him, struck by the sudden notion that Shane probably truly believed that magic set him and No Majs inescapably apart. Shane flushed, likely aware of how he sounded.

“Look, if you can present me with evidence that Muggles can definitely become ghosts, then I’ll believe it,” Shane said, holding his hands up. “But they just don’t. We do.”

They and we. Ryan looked down at his steak pie, shovelling food into his mouth to hide his disquiet. The night seemed irreparable; Shane asked some perfunctory questions about his family, his classes, but Ryan was only able to come up with vaguely prickly answers.

He called it a night early, and they walked back to the castle with Shane slightly behind him, hands shoved in pockets and eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Thankfully, the walk was undisturbed this time.

It was starting to get colder and colder in the hills around the castle; Shane’s breath misted in the air, and Ryan rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. He saw Shane glance at his red, chapped hands, and then down at his own hands wrapped in nice gloves. 

“Look, Ryan…” Shane said, as they reached the Defence classroom. “I’m sorry, if I said anything that offended you.”

“It’s cool, dude,” Ryan said, shoulders stiff with awkwardness. “You don’t need to keep apologising. Blanket apology, and all that.”

“I want to, though.”

“You didn’t say anything.” Ryan said, staring resolutely down the corridor where he would make his escape. “It’s fine. I swear.”

“Right. Fine.” Shane said, giving him a tight smile and sliding around the door to the classroom, leaving Ryan alone in the candlelit corridor.

He didn’t know what to think. He wandered back to his classroom slowly, feet heavy with a burden he couldn’t even recognise. His path took him past the transfiguration classroom, and something stopped him. It wasn’t too late. He looked up at the ceiling, down at the stone floor, and then knocked on Borden’s door.

“Come in?” A voice called almost immediately. He cautiously pushed the door open, to reveal Professor Borden sitting at her desk with her raven coloured hair pooling around her shoulders. Her glasses reflected the candlelight, hiding her eyes.

“I thought about what you said,” Ryan said. “And you might be right. Shane isn’t entirely objective.”

“…okay.” She said, putting her pen down slowly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah.” Ryan said, fingers white around the doorknob. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he got back to his room, he pulled the cards from their box on the mantlepiece and laid them out on his desk, trailing his fingers across them carefully. He drew the Two of Wands: an approaching stand-off, creeping self-doubt. 

“That’s really fucking helpful,” He muttered. “Self-doubt is my middle name, bud.”

Almost like they heard him being bitter, the cards went silent. That night, he was kept awake by the sound of someone weeping, a soft voice calling Shane’s name.

“Maisie? Is that you?” Ryan called.

No answer, just more crying. He stuck his pillow over his ears and tried desperately to sleep.

He dreamt of the tear gas spell crackling overhead, the people screaming around him, banners catching fire as he was tackled to the ground. Gravel embedded in his cheek.

He led his classes on bare minimum brain capacity the next day, barely paying attention to what anyone was doing. When he walked past the Transfiguration classroom on his way to lunch and Borden dragged him inside, he didn’t even protest.

Devin and Madame Chirico were also there. Devin was compulsively chewing on her nails, whilst Kristin watched Lara pull out a blackboard with a flick of her wand.

“You ready to get started?” She asked, giving him a pointed look.

“Sure,” Ryan said. God knew what he was getting into.

“So, what do we know?” Ryan asked, holding the chalk in his hand and staring at the blank board. “Two victims.”

“So far,” Kristin interjected.

“So far, thank you, Kristin. Evie Adeola and Peter Eliot. Both hit with the same curse; neither killed.” Ryan said, writing the names up on the board. “What was the curse?”

“An old curse. _Corruptus de profundus._ ” Devin said around the thumbnail shoved in her mouth. “Victim falls into a coma. It wasn’t necessarily fatal but it was…insidious in the extreme, and unwilling to relinquish its victims.”

“But you treated it?”

“Yeah,” Devin said. “It wasn’t easy. I’m not sure if I should be telling you guys this stuff…”

“We’re making sure that the official investigation remains effective,” Lara insisted. “It’s still within the faculty.”

“I guess…” Devin said. “But yeah, Shane Madej told me the direction I should be headed in, and then Lara found this ancient book with more info about it. It was bizarre; a really obscure curse.”

“How did Shane know?” Lara asked. Ryan wrote _Corruptus de Profundus_ on the board, reconsidered his spelling once, twice, and then just left it.

“He found Evie. I guess he did some preliminary exams,” Devin said. “Plus, I bet he’s seen loads of shit like this when he was an Auror.”

“What do Evie and Peter have in common?” Ryan asked.

“I…have no idea,” Kristin said. “They’re both fourteen?”

“Evie is Ravenclaw, Peter is Hufflepuff,” Lara said.

“Are their houses really relevant?” Ryan asked.

“Of course they are,” Lara said. “Neither are Slytherin or Gryffindor, so any connection to the war is unlikely.” She sprang to her feet and started pacing. “They’re children, so I’m guessing the motive will be…some kind of grudge against a parent?”

“Hey, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were involved too,” Kristin objected. “Ever heard of Luna Lovegood?”

“You get my point though,” Lara said. “These attacks were not perpetrated by a student. What kind of reason would a grown-up have to attack a child? Not something the child themselves did.”

“How do you know a student didn’t do it?” Ryan said.

“It’s pretty advanced magic,” Devin said. “So, like…it’s possible that one of the better NEWT students did it, but unlikely.”

“Right,” Ryan said. “What do we know about Peter Eliot? He’s not in my class.”

“He’s half-blooded, Hufflepuff, parents both work in St Mungo’s. I trained with his mom for a while,” Devin said. “And Evie?”

“Also half-blooded?” Ryan mused, tapping his finger against his piece of chalk. “Why would anyone attack someone half-blooded?”

“Some kind of…blood traitor grudge?” Lara said.

Devin shook her head. “Not everything has to do with magical heritage, guys, it’s not the nineties anymore.”

“Being half-bloods is the only thing they have in common, as far as I can see.” Lara said.

“Half-blood _ed_ ,” Ryan corrected her. She didn’t acknowledge it. “So…we’re stuck for a motive.”

“I can imagine Evie’s mother having enemies,” Lara said. “But Peter’s parents? They’re both just healers.”

“Just?” Devin asked.

“Shhh, you know what I mean.” Lara said.

“The question nobody seems to want to ask,” Kristin said loudly, cutting Devin off before she could say anything more to Lara. “Is who on the staff is remotely interested in harming students? We all know it’s incredibly difficult for anyone to enter the grounds. The last time anyone got in was like, 2002.”

All four were silent. Ryan was aware that Lara was looking at him with hard eyes. He did not meet her glare; instead, he stared at the board, the two names staring back. He felt like there was something at the edges of his vision, something that needed a focal point, like cards or a crystal ball.

“Leave it with me,” He said. “Evie and I get on well. I’ll talk to her.”

When he got back to his classroom, just before lunch finished, there were a pair of brand-new suede gloves with a nice fluffy lining sat on his desk. The label was still on: Twilfitt and Tattings. There was no note. Ryan looked at them with pursed lips for a long time before shoving them in the bottom of his sock drawer and leaving them there.


	13. Snow Day

His afternoon class was on dream journals.

“The subconscious is a powerful tool,” He said, watching students jump up and down to fetch the books and then comparing them to the diaries they’d been keeping.

“Do you keep a dream journal, Professor?” Someone asked.

“Nah,” He said. “I’m not trying to find out anything about myself. It’s important to remember that the methods I teach you in this class are not interchangeable; everything has its purpose. Dream journals are useful for introspection, discovering inner truths.”

Once the classroom was empty, he fished one of the crystal balls out of the crate and set it up on his desk. He sat, stretching his fingers and neck out, and looked into the swirling mist. He tried to empty his mind and focus on Evie and Peter Eliot, searching hungrily for that missing connection that he knew was there.

But the crystal stayed frustratingly blank.

“Come on,” Ryan muttered, but it was no good. The minute he was looking for something, the crystal ball knew. “Goddamnit.”

Classes were due to break up for Christmas next week, and he could tell he was gradually losing his students’ attention. The days were getting shorter and shorter: half-way through December, it was fully dark by half-past four. Ryan found it made him vaguely depressed and unproductive; once the sun had set, he didn’t particularly feel like working. On the other hand, curling up in front of the fire whilst the rain battered the windows was a rare and peculiar joy that he had not experienced before. 

On the first day of the last week of class, he awoke to find fat white flakes of snow gently drifting to the ground, obscuring any view of the hills surrounding the castle and blanketing the grounds in white. A smile slowly spread across his face and he turned and ran, robes flying behind him. He passed faces on the stairs, dully registering one particular forest green waistcoat as he pushed past, not caring what people thought of him, until he reached the Grand Entrance. 

He stared out at the growing expanse of white, the lake glinting silver in the distance, and took a step out. His feet crunched. He laughed, delightedly. 

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Shane said, from the doorway. 

Ryan tipped his head back and blinked the fat flakes out of his eyelashes. “I’ve never seen snow before.”

“Wow,” Shane muttered, following Ryan out into the gentle storm. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” Ryan said, spinning around and tromping further into the white, looking back at the castle veiled in snow. “It’s…it’s just beautiful.”

Students were following them out, laughing and yelling.

“Yeah. Beautiful.” Shane said. Ryan was staring at the sky, until a lump of wet and cold smacked him in the back of the head. 

“Shit!” He yelled, shaking his head compulsively. “Oh God, that’s cold!”

Shane was cackling, twirling his wand delightedly in one hand. “What did you expect?!”

“It’s on, Madej!” Ryan huffed, diving to the ground.

“Good luck!” Shane called. “I’ve got Merlin and the power of many more years of snow experience on my side!”

“Snow experience?” Ryan said, using his wand to build up a fort in double time (it would have been triple but it fell down twice in the process).

“Didn’t you have to put how many years snow experience you had on your resume?” Shane yelled, guiding snowballs over the edge of the fort to hit Ryan in the neck.

“Not fair!” Ryan spluttered. “You’re not allowed to use magic!” He conveniently forgot the spell he’d just used to build his fort. 

“I’ll still beat you,” Shane said, skidding around the edge of his snow wall and tackling Ryan to the ground, shoving snow down his neck manually. “Those snowballs were merely a distraction!”

“God, uncle, uncle!” Ryan giggled, trying to fight Shane off and also curl into a protective ball and failing at both. Shane stopped, breathing heavily, grinning wildly, cheeks glowing red with the cold. Ryan stared up at him, unable to stop himself smiling back. 

“You cheated,” He said, panting with the strain of the fight. 

“It’s a snowball fight,” Shane said breathlessly. “There are no rules.”

“That’s such a Slytherin answer,” Ryan said, warm where Shane was straddling him. 

Shane seemed to suddenly realise that he was pinning Ryan with his knees and scrambled away. Ryan felt the cold leech sharply into his bones.

“Fuck, I’m soaked.” He huffed. He realised that there were children all around, running and yelling and holding their own snowball fights, and that they probably saw their entire…display. Shane flicked his wand and Ryan’s clothes dried. 

“Welcome to the rest of the world,” Shane said, a surprisingly tight smile on his face. “We have snow.”

“I was unprepared this time, but I will win the next fight,” Ryan warned. The feeling was starting to leech out his hands; he raised them to his face and blew on them. Shane watched him do so with a growing furrow in his brow. 

“Sure thing, short stop,” Shane said, and turned on his heel to make his way back into the castle, leaving Ryan to slowly dampen in the thickening snow. “I’ll see you around!” 

“Yeah. I guess.” Ryan muttered, watching the students run through the snow. His feet were starting to go numb. 

Ryan saw Evie and Hannah with heads close together, giggling about something in the corridors, with Shane sidling along behind and giving Ryan the side eye. Professor Borden was about, wringing her hands anxiously. Devin and Kristen dropped by his classrooms for tea leaf readings and gossip, whilst Borden came by for updates on her “investigation”. 

“The curse used is horribly obscure,” She said. “Only someone with access to a world-class library could have even known it existed. Like the one here…or at the Auror training academy.”

“Look, Lara, you complain about McGonagall’s search being biased but you seem pretty fixated on Shane Madej.” Ryan said, spinning in his chair. He had managed to enchant it to spin, even though it was a wing-backed armchair, and he was incredibly proud of himself. 

“You’re always ranting and raving about instincts and whatnot,” Lara huffed. “I just have a bad feeling about him.” 

“Did you know Maisie MacTavish?” Ryan asked, and she blinked slowly. 

“Somewhat. We weren’t friends. Gryffindor and Slytherin and all that.” She said, staring out of the window. “My friends…the teachers made a big deal out of house unity, after the war ended, but I don’t understand how they could have expected us to trust the greens, after everything.”

She was a hundred miles away; Ryan could have left the room and she wouldn’t have noticed. “I was 12 when the war ended. I was evacuated, along with however many fit and healthy seventeen-year-old Slytherins. They could have stayed and fought for what was right. They didn’t. I can’t see how it’s any more complicated than that.” 

“I guess,” Ryan said, a little helpless, and she startled. 

“I’m sorry,” She said. “I didn’t mean to go on a…tangent like that. The war was a long time ago.”

“Not that long. Not for people that were there.” Ryan said, leaning forward in his chair. “Wounds like that take time to heal.”

“They said as much.” Lara smiled ruefully. “It’s hard to believe though.”

“I know.” Ryan said, and she nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve. 

“I’d better go,” She said brusquely, and hurried away before Ryan could even get up to see her out.

He was seeing a small group of Slytherins through the corridors later just before curfew when he ran into Devin coming the other way with the leftover Ravenclaws. Evie was with them, her eyes trained on the book open in her hands even as she followed her housemates towards Ravenclaw tower.

As the two groups passed, somebody said loud enough to carry, “man, if I read so much I’d slip into a coma too. Does she have any _real_ friends?” 

Ryan spun around, incensed, and registered several things; Devin doing the same, Evie looking stricken, and Hannah Greengrass shoving some girl aside and raising her wand. Wordlessly, she pointed, and the yeller was hit hard in the face with a large fish, nose bursting and blood trickling down his face. 

“Merlin’s beard!” Somebody yelped, and Devin grabbed the boy, drawing her wand and deflecting Hannah’s next hex. 

“Ryan!” She said, and Ryan grabbed Hannah by her wand arm, muttering “ _expelliarmus!_ ” as he did so and thanking the stars that it worked. 

“Get off!” She growled, blonde hair flying as she tried to wrench out of his grip. “Let go of me, mudblood-”

Ryan dropped her arm like he’d been burned, both wands in his hand dropping to the floor with a clatter. The entire corridor had gone silent, save for the boy who had been hit with a fish quietly fretting. 

“Hannah,” Evie whispered, blinking in shock. Hannah’s eyes widened as she realised what she had said, the magnitude of what she had done. 

“Evie – Evie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it-” She started to say, but Devin was hustling the group of Ravenclaws back down the corridor along with the one errant Slytherin, and Evie went with them gladly, tears beginning to brim in her brown eyes. 

“You lot, back to the dungeons.” Ryan said tightly. “Fast. Miss Greengrass, we’re going to Professor McGonagall.”

Hannah nodded, head bowed. She went willingly and silently with him through the corridors to the griffin statue, Ryan keeping his eyes straight ahead and his jaw fixed. His hands twitched with the muscle-memory of the last time he’d been called that; the taste of gravel filled his mouth. 

They stopped outside the Headmistress’ office. 

“I’m sorry, Professor.” She whispered, staring up at the statue of the griffin. “I’m sorry I called you – that. But I’m not sorry I hexed Steven.”

Ryan said nothing, wouldn’t have known what to say even if he’d wanted to say something. He nodded stiffly and went into McGonagall’s office alone.

There was no-one there. He had been here once in his first week, but the entire thing was just a blur, if he was honest. The walls were lined entirely with books up to a certain point, where the shelves gave way to stone covered in portraits of previous headmasters. A huge black bird, possibly a raven though Ryan wasn’t sure, sat asleep on a silver perch next to an imposing mahogany desk. 

Dumbledore was asleep in his portrait directly above McGonagall’s desk. He did not awake when Ryan slammed the door. 

Close to the ground on the west side of the office was a portrait of a sallow man with a hooked nose dressed entirely in black sniffed. 

“Professor Bergara,” He said, in a low, droning voice. “Seen anything interesting in a tea cup recently?” 

“You’re that dick who bullied Harry Potter and claimed it was for his own good, right?” Ryan said. Snape drew himself upright indignantly, but Professor McGonagall interrupted him by throwing the door open.

Ryan explained the evening’s events to her in curt tones with fists clenched. Her lips grew thinner and thinner with every word, getting up from her desk to pace back and forth. When he went back out to get Hannah, Shane was there. 

“Devin told me.” Shane said. “Look, Ryan-”

“Professor McGonagall will see you now,” Ryan said to Hannah, pushing past Shane and down the stairs before he did something bad, like yell or vomit. 

It was only on his way back to the Divination tower that he realised that Hannah had hexed that boy without using a single word, and a chill ran down his spine. 

He heard rapid footsteps behind him, and Shane grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face him. 

“Look, Ryan, I am so sorry-” He said.

“Where would she even learn a word like that, Shane?” Ryan demanded, something ugly bubbling up from deep inside, from the place that had cowered in the dirt and the rain and done nothing as the blows rained down, helpless- “It’s 2018!”

“I – I don’t know,” Shane said, raising his hands and taking a step back. “I will – make sure that she knows how, how deeply unacceptable that was. I promise.”

“Sometimes promise isn’t good enough, Professor,” Ryan said, and turned to go. Shane followed him, long legs matching his stride effortlessly. 

“Look, Ryan, I know-”

“You don’t know _shit._ ” Ryan spat, whirling to face him again. “You’ve got your fancy robes and your wizarding pedigree and your first-class diploma from the Auror Academy and you still don’t know shit.”

Shane stepped back, wounded. “Ryan...I really am sorry.”

Ryan looked down at the stone floor beneath his feet, taking a deep breath and feeling the way his lungs expanded, noting how his rapid heart-beat was slowing. “I didn’t mean that. It’s…none of that stuff is your fault.”

“It’s fine. I get it.” Shane said stiffly. 

“Hannah already told me she was sorry.” Ryan said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and digging his nails into his palms where Shane couldn’t see. “And it’s forgiven.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” Ryan said curtly and turned to go one last time. Shane didn’t follow.


	14. Hannah Interrupted

The castle was quiet and cold; students were told to stay in their common rooms, in fear of being attacked. McGonagall seemed determined to push past this, however, and the first day of the holidays saw her and Professor Flitwick moving throughout the corridors on the ground floor and practically coating them with tinsel and holly. Daphne Hagrid could be seen hurrying around classrooms with crowds of tall Christmas trees floating behind her. 

Ryan sat in his room and wrote lesson plans, watching the grey skies roil outside his window. December was running down like sand in an hourglass, that strange winter state of affairs where days seemed to be dragging but too short at the same time. 

“Ryan,” Devin said, liquid in her glass sloshing alarmingly as she gestured. “You’re not giving him a chance. He apologised immediately!” 

“I’m just…sick of it,” Ryan said. “I’ve given him loads of chances. He keeps messing up!”

“Does he, though?” Kristin asked, squinting awkwardly. “Or are you just being overly sensitive?”

“Look, you don’t get to tell me that I’m being overly sensitive about race-” Ryan said.

“Okay, alright,” Devin said, taking a big slug of her drink. “We need to have a good, hard think about this. It’s a…Shanigma.”

“Jesus H Christ,” Ryan muttered into his glass. The Firewhiskey that Devin had brought up to his room was sitting heavy and warm in his stomach, clouding his thoughts. 

“Do you like him or not?” Kristin asked. 

“Yeah. No. Yeah. Ugh,” Ryan said. “I used to think he was like…my actual hero. And then when I met him for real, he was…that.”

“He was what?”

“I don’t even know,” Ryan muttered, taking another drink and grimacing. “He told me he thought Muggleborns were naturally disadvantaged. Lara is convinced that he murdered someone. He forced me to duel him literally five minutes after we met. I don’t know.”

“Yeah that’s…pretty bad.” Kristin said, leaning against Devin’s shoulder a little precariously. 

“But he’s also been kinda sweet. He came to my class.” Ryan said. “He keeps trying to buy me dinner.” He didn’t mention the gloves, which remained at the bottom of his sock drawer with the label still on, even though the weather had been so miserable that he had been sorely tempted to take them out several times. 

“Well, he’s never tried to buy any of us dinner. We’re not getting a Knut out of that miserly bastard.” Devin said.

“Yeah, that’s another thing,” Ryan said. “Why do you all have a whole-ass different currency here? In the States, we all use dollars!”

There was a knock at the door. 

“Who the fuck could that be?” Ryan said, and Devin snorted.

“Look in your crystal ball, Mr Divination.”

“Fuck off,” Ryan said, and pulled the door open to reveal Shane. 

“Uh…hi.” Shane said, waving awkwardly. “Are you alright? You’re, uh, swaying.”

Ryan stared. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Devin and Kristin gesturing frantically. 

_Give him a chance!!_ Devin mouthed, flapping her hands wildly.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday.” Ryan blurted. 

“Oh!” Shane said, taken aback. “Look, it’s fine, I get it, you were stressed out-”

It was finally too much for the two girls, in silent paroxysms of laughter, and Devin snorted aloud. 

“Yeah…Devin and Kristin are here,” Ryan said, pointing. Kristin waved. 

“Hi guys,” Shane said, peering round the door. Ryan stepped out into the corridor and pointedly shut the door behind him. 

“Yeah, so…I haven’t been fair on you.” Ryan sighed, staring down at his feet. “And I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s fine, really,” Shane said gruffly. “Hannah’s been suspended. For what she said to you.”

“Oh, right.” Ryan said. Shane thrust a package at him.

“Here, this is for you.” He said. “Merry Christmas.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Ryan said, staring down at the brown paper. 

“Look, it’s been brought to my attention at many points in my life,” Shane said, scuffing the floor with one foot uncomfortably. “That the things my parents tried to convince me were true and good in the world actually…just weren’t. And it’s still being brought to my attention. But I’m really, really trying to be better. I promise.” 

“…Cool.” Ryan said, nodding a little frantically. “Yeah. I get it.”

“I’ll see you around, Ry.” Shane said. He left, and Ryan let the door slowly shut behind him. Devin and Kristin were staring at him.

“Ry?” Kristin hissed.

“I…I dunno,” Ryan said, staring down at the package. He pulled the brown paper away to reveal a set of woolly robes. “Oh, man.” 

He didn’t know what to think; the Firewhiskey was wrapping its warm tendrils round his brain and making everything fuzzy. He felt like he was constantly blowing hot and cold on this whole thing. Maybe Shane was a nice guy. Maybe-

A gust of wind rattled the window pane and he heard a distant cry, the splash of water hitting floorboards. 

“Something’s happening,” He blurted, dropping the package to the floor. “God, fuck, something’s happening.” 

Devin sat up straight, cocking her head curiously. A chill was cutting through the pleasant buzz from the drink. 

“We have to go.” Ryan said, flinging the door open and climbing haphazardly down the trapdoor. He thought he heard Devin and Kristin follow, but he didn’t check. There was a draught blowing down the corridor as he ran; he could hear voices chattering as he rounded the corner-

Shane was kneeling over a body prone on the ground, wand out. Ryan slammed on the brakes before he tripped over both of them; Devin skidded round the corner behind him, gasped, and immediately joined Shane on the ground.

“Same curse,” Shane said through gritted teeth as he ran his wand over the child – a young man, about 15, dark hair and sallow skin – muttering in Latin under his breath.

“It’s fine, we got it,” Devin breathed, joining Shane in the wand-work with one hand and taking the boy’s pulse with the other. “How long has he been here?”

“A long time.” Shane said. “It’s progressing fast.” 

Devin cursed, and Ryan took a step back, swaying. The soft tendrils of whiskey had turned into chains, keeping his brain and his gut firmly on the ground when he needed to think. He looked around and then took off in a random direction. 

Imagine his surprise when he ran into Evie, staring down the corridor with wide eyes.

“What are you doing out of your dorm?” Ryan demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. She looked up at him, unsettled.

“I…I was going to go see Hannah in the Slytherin common room,” She said, frowning. “But I just met her just now, and she was – being weird. She ran away.”

“Where did she go?” Ryan demanded.

“That way,” Evie pointed. “What’s – what’s going on?”

“Someone else has been attacked,” Ryan said grimly. “Get back to the Ravenclaw tower and stay there.” 

Evie nodded, and ran back up the corridor towards the Ravenclaw common room. Ryan watched her go with a heavy heart, before turning to follow Hannah in the direction Evie had given him. 

He caught up with her outside the Transfiguration classroom, watching her stumble down the corridor with tears in her eyes, putting out a hand to lean against the wall and suppress a sob.

“Hannah? What’s going on?” He called, and her head snapped up.

“What do you want?” She demanded, voice trembling. 

“I think we need to talk,” Ryan said, taking a careful step forward. “What are you doing out of your dorm, Hannah?”

“Stay back,” She said, face tear-stained, drawing her wand. 

“Jeez, kid, what are you doing?” Ryan said. “Let’s keep it chill here.”

“I said, stay back!” Hannah said and her wand hand twitched; Ryan felt the last of the intoxication clear from his mind as time slowed. Hannah was lowering her stance, eyebrows furrowing – she couldn’t be telegraphing her intentions any harder than if she tried.

_Defend._

“ _Everte statum!_ ” Hannah cried, and Ryan dived to the floor, rolling and pulling out his wand as he went. 

“ _Protego!_ ” The Shield Charm erupted into being with a sharp crack the way it never could have in Shane’s classroom; Hannah stumbled backwards. 

“ _Expulso!_ ” She pointed her wand at the ceiling, causing a downwards force that circumvented the shield and slammed Ryan against the floor on his back, winding him hard. He felt the wrist of his non-wand hand shatter as he hit the ground, and he yelled in pain. 

_Defend._

His ears were ringing. His hand was on fire; he couldn’t focus on anything except the pain. 

_Defend!_

The voice in his head was yelling. Hannah was turning to run away. Ryan tried to struggle to his feet, but his limbs were immensely heavy. 

“ _Impedimenta!_ ” He managed to choke out, and Hannah was stopped. 

“Let me go!” She screamed, tears rolling freely down her face. Ryan clambered to his feet and grabbed her wand with his not-in-agony hand, panting with the effort. 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” He wheezed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t do it,” Hannah sobbed. “I didn’t.”

“Hannah, I never said you did.” Ryan said, puzzled. “But why would you attack me?”

“I have to get out of here.” She tried to make a break for it, but he clung on with grim determination. 

“No, you’re coming with me.”

He dragged her back through the corridors, wincing every time his broken wrist was jostled, listening to her quietly weep with fear. Before he could reach the corridor he had left Devin, he saw Shane stumbling around the corner to lean against the wall, pressing a hand against his mouth like he was about to be sick. 

“No,” Hannah whispered. Shane’s head snapped up.

“What’s going on?” He asked sharply, face terribly pale. 

Ryan felt like the castle was prodding him in the back repeatedly; his field of vision was flickering between the now and the then, glimpses of a stiff, dead cat hanging from the wall, teenagers racing down the corridors in the dark, men in old-fashioned robes carrying a stretcher draped in a white sheet towards the stairs. 

“I found her lurking nearby. She attacked me.” Ryan gave Hannah a little shove. 

“Hannah? What’s going on?” The girl said nothing. 

McGonagall hurried round the corner and stumbled to a halt. 

“Shane,” She said, and Shane shook his head. 

“He won’t wake up,” Shane said. “Devin is doing her best.”

“Oh, dear lord,” McGonagall breathed, clutching a hand to her chest. 

He sagged, clutching his broken wrist against his chest. The adrenaline that had rushed through him earlier had vanished. Time seemed to have slowed to a treacly kind of crawl; snapshots of Shane scrubbing a hand across his face, Hannah wiping tears from her face, McGonagall appearing back round the corner with a somber expression. 

“What is Miss Greengrass doing here?” She asked quietly.

“I found her near the scene,” Ryan said, hearing his own voice as if from a great distance. “She attacked me.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Shane muttered.

“All of you had better come with me,” McGonagall said. “I am going to alert the Auror Department. This is, as you Americans say, above my paygrade.” 

McGonagall swept away, herding Hannah in front of her. Ryan went to follow, but Shane grabbed him by the shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” He said. 

“I…yeah.” Ryan said, glancing down at his wrist cradled against his chest. “I can wait though.”

“No,” Shane said, and drew his wand. “ _Episkey._ ”

Ryan felt the bones in his wrist shift back into place and winced. “Thanks”

Shane said nothing. 

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked. 

“Yeah,” Shane said, and then shook his head. “No. I’m not okay.”

Next thing Ryan knew he was putting his arms around him and pressing Shane’s face into his shoulder, feeling him exhale a shuddering breath under his hands. Finally, the influence of the castle faded away, and time returned to its normal pace. The ripples crossing his mind settled. 

“This has…brought back bad memories.” Shane mumbled into Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan breathed in, smelling the guilt and the fear oozing from him; finally, he felt the walls fall away. 

“We should go with those guys,” Shane said. 

“Shh. We’re having a moment.” Ryan said, letting his eyes slip closed and enjoying the feeling of being close to another human. 

“Okay,” Shane breathed.


	15. Kwikspell

Hannah was left in an empty classroom with some books whilst McGonagall decided what to do with her. The Aurors came striding up the driveway at the crack of dawn with their red robes flying in the wind – a tall man with a gingery beard and a smaller, blond woman with a bright smile and elfin features. Shane greeted them outside the main door with hugs.

“It’s been a long time,” He said, shaking his head. Ryan yawned; he had stayed awake all night, watching McGonagall and Shane take it in turns pacing back and forth across her office, watching Hannah stare hollowly at her hands, hearing the Floo call with Steven’s parents. 

“When are you gonna come back, Shane?” The man asked, clapping him on the back. Ryan could feel pride and honour radiating from him, though it overlay a dark streak of stubborn. 

“You know what the answer is, Teej,” Shane said. “Ryan, this is Auror TJ Marchbank and Auror Detective Kelsey Impicciche. This is Ryan Bergara, he teaches divination.”

“What happened to Trelawney?” Kelsey asked, narrowing her eyes.

“She resigned,” Shane shrugged. “Something finally drove her off the deep end, I guess.”

“So, Divination?” Kelsey asked, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she followed Shane up the steps. 

“Yep,” Ryan, steeling himself for the conversation that usually came with that question. 

“Sounds pretty cool,” Kelsey said. 

“Watch out, Ryan’s pretty sensitive about the Divination thing.” Shane warned from ahead.

“Shut up, Shane.” Ryan grumbled. 

Shane led the two into Hannah’s classroom and locked themselves inside. Ryan hurried up to the sixth floor and Professor Borden’s rooms, where he hammered on the door. 

She answered with her dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders and framing her pale face, clutching a dressing gown to her chest. “Ryan? What’s up?”

“A…another pupil was attacked last night.” Ryan said. 

Her knees seemed to give way and she put a hand against the doorframe to steady herself. “Oh Merlin…who?”

“Steven Shepherd,” Ryan said. “We…we found Hannah Greengrass near the scene. She attacked me.”

“Hannah?” Lara said, clutching her hand to her chest. “No. No, Hannah would never.”

“She did,” Ryan said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and instinctively flexing his shattered wrist. “I think we really…really need to consider that she might be involved in all of this.”

“She can’t be,” Lara moaned. Tears were gathering at the edges of her lashes. “She wouldn’t.”

“Please, Lara,” Ryan said, reaching for her hand, but she jerked away, slamming the door in his face. He heard a scuffling and then the door was yanked open.

“A student was hurt on Shane Madej’s watch, again.” She hissed. “Leave my niece out of this.” 

The door slammed again. 

Ryan sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“I smell gossip.” A voice cackled, and Peeves came drifting down the corridor. 

“Fuck off, Peeves,” Ryan said. 

“Language, _professor,_ ” Peeves said. “No teacups left to stare into? How else will you possibly discover the secrets of the universe?”

“Hey Peeves…how are you still here?” Ryan asked. 

“Still here? I was never alive,” Peeves said, drifting in lazy circles. “One day I was just here. With so many children to torment, how delicious.”

“Do you ever see any ghosts that weren’t wizards?”

“Only the ghost of your self-respect, lover boy.” Peeves said, swooping away before Ryan could ask him any more questions. 

Ryan sighed, again. “Are people just allergic to straight answers around here?” He asked the empty air, and thought he heard a breath of a cackling laugh. 

Back at the base of the headmistress’s tower, McGonagall and the two Aurors were sat around a table with Hannah. Shane stood behind her chair, watching the proceedings with a keen eye. 

“Ryan, you’re here. We’re going to need a statement from you.” Marchbank got up from his table, giving Hannah a suspicious side-glance. “Is there anywhere private we can go?”

The door swung open and Lara stalked in, fully-dressed and with her hair pulled back tightly again. “What’s going on here?”

“An official Ministry investigation,” TJ said, mouth thinning. “Who are you?”

“Borden, transfiguration.” She said, colder than an Arctic wind. “I’m here to protect my niece.”

“Lara, we have this under control, Hannah will not be subject to-” McGonagall said.

“As long as he’s here, I don’t trust any investigation.” Lara said. “Hannah, don’t tell them anything.” 

Hannah was staring at her aunt with wide eyes; her hands had clenched into tight fists on the table. 

“Come on, McGonagall can deal with this.” Marchbank muttered, and he and his partner went with Ryan to another empty classroom. 

“Right, so, tell us what happened,” Kelsey said, sitting down on a desk and swinging her legs around. 

Ryan clenched his fists under the table, willing himself to remain calm. He wasn’t under arrest this time. He could tell them what he knew freely.

“Well, I was in my classroom in the Divination tower with Devin – Madame Lytle, and Ms Chirico,” Ryan said, puffing his cheeks out. “Shane came to the door. He gave me a Christmas present.”

Kelsey gave TJ the side-eye.

“What?” Ryan asked.

“It’s nothing,” Kelsey said. “Shane’s never been a Christmas guy.”

“Right. Well. After that, he left, and a little while later I just…got a gut feeling that something bad was happening.” Ryan said. 

“A gut feeling?” TJ asked. “Do you get those often?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, trying not to sound defensive. “And I was right. We all came down to the seventh floor and found Shane with, uh, Steven.”

“And then?”

“I met a student of mine, Evie Adeola, who told me she’d seen Miss Greengrass coming from the direction that I had come from,” Ryan said. “I carried on, and I came across Hannah outside the Transfiguration classroom on the sixth floor. She seemed…very distressed. I asked her what was happening, and she drew her wand on me. I defended myself, I confiscated her wand, I took her back up the stairs. Professor McGonagall was there.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “We took her up to the Headmistress’ office.” 

“Why do you think Miss Greengrass attacked you?” TJ asked.

“No idea,” Ryan sighed. “She seemed really upset though.” 

“Are you aware of her…family history?” Kelsey asked delicately. 

“I think I am,” Ryan said, and TJ shook his head.

“I don’t need to tell you that this is pretty bad.” He said. Neither of the Aurors would quite meet his eye. 

“For her?” Ryan said. “But she’s a good kid. She wouldn’t…she wouldn’t attack somebody like this.”

“Come on, Ryan,” Kelsey said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “She’s been found at the scene of two different attacks.”

“But…Evie said she saw a man in red robes,” Ryan said. 

“Evie might not have seen anything, but she did hear Hannah’s versions of events,” TJ countered. “We should have been called in much earlier. Hogwarts can’t isolate itself anymore, this isn’t Durmstrang.”  
Ryan folded his arms, staring resolutely at the floor. He didn’t want to believe that Hannah Greengrass could be capable of anything like that. 

“Look, just because she’s a Slytherin, just because her dad was – whatever, I don’t think you can beat her with the same stick.”

“I’m a Slytherin too, dude, it’s not about that.” TJ said. “It’s about a girl who we know was at the scene of two crimes, who attacked a teacher.” 

“Something’s not right,” Ryan said. “And I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

“Sure thing.” TJ said. "Take my advice, Ryan, and don't make trouble." He turned away, robes sweeping, and left the classroom.

“Well. That certainly wasn’t patronising.” Ryan muttered. Kelsey hopped off the desk and shot a slightly awkward finger gun at him before following TJ. 

“Wait,” Ryan said, reaching out a hand to her. “Surely she won't…she’s fourteen. She won’t go to Azkaban, right?

Kelsey shook her hair out of her face and frowned. “Teens have been sent to Azkaban before. I hope she doesn’t.”

“But that’s. That’s barbaric.” Ryan said.

“Yeah, but it’s how things are around here.” Kelsey shrugged, and Ryan stared after her as she followed TJ. 

He stumbled out into the corridor, leaning against the wall as the two Aurors vanished around the corner in a swirl of red robes. His knees were going slowly numb, and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor before they gave way. 

He heard a sniffing and he looked up to see Evie stood in front of him, eyes bloodshot and swollen. 

“Hey kid,” He said, infinitely tired. “Wanna join me?”

Evie sat down on the floor beside him and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Hannah wouldn’t. She would never hurt anyone on purpose.” 

“I believe you, Evie.” Ryan said. “I dunno how we convince the rest of the world, though.” 

He stumbled back to the Divination on heavy legs and crashed face-down on his bed for the first sleep he’d had in 28 hours. It wasn’t particularly restful, however: he had visions of Hannah holding out her wand in a shaking hand, tears streaming down her face. He saw Steven Shepherd the day he’d defended him from James Potter, and then lying small and prone in an empty corridor. 

He heard a voice, morphing between TJ’s and someone else’s, shouting _“You are under arrest for inciting violence against your fellow wizards. Any attempt to resist will result in further criminal charges. You cannot be compelled to incriminate yourself in testimony…”_

He was awoken by the bang of the trapdoor slamming shut. He slowly pushed himself upright, too groggy to even register what the sound might have meant. 

When he emerged into the classroom, he saw a purple envelope on his desk. There was a glossy leaflet inside. 

_Kwikspell! Do you struggle with basic magic? Do you find yourself out of step with your peers? Fear not! There is an answer! This simple, quick, and easy correspondence course will have you-_

There was a ripping sound, and Ryan realised he was clutching the parchment so hard he had torn it. Red was rippling at the edges of his vision. 

He ran to the trapdoor and threw himself down the ladder, searching around frantically for whoever had left it, but they were obviously long gone. He was shaking. 

And then there was Shane, turning the corner with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and eyes fixed firmly on the floor. 

“Shane!” Ryan said. “Did you pass anyone on your way here?” 

“No?” Shane said, confused. The bags under his eyes were deeper even than usual, and his hair was sticking in every direction. “Should I have?”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing,” Ryan said. 

“Okay,” Shane said. “Wait, no. It’s obviously not.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan insisted, and Shane shook his head. 

“Ryan, you’re bright red.”

“Someone left this on my desk.” Ryan sighed, thrusting the envelope at him.

Shane took the leaflet and read it, lips pursing. The furrow between his brows grew deeper and deeper. “Is this – you think this is some kind of dig at you?”

“It has to be,” Ryan said. “What else could it be?”

“Who knows about your…thing?” Shane asked. 

“Just you.” Ryan shrugged. “Oh, shit. James Potter.”

“Potter?” Shane said, running a hand through his hair and making it even wilder. “When have you ever talked to James Potter?” 

“I gave him detention.” Ryan shrugged. Shane was staring at him, open-mouthed. “What? He’s still a student. Who gives a shit who his dad killed?”

“You’ve got balls, Bergara,” Shane said, an approving smirk spreading across his face. Ryan felt his face flush, and he looked down at his feet. 

“James has a temper but he’s a decent kid,” Shane said. “I don’t think he would have done this. He might have told someone else about it, though?”

“Well, then I’ve got no chance of finding out who it was.” Ryan said. 

“We could ask him-”

“No, we could not.” Ryan cut him off and Shane raised his hands in defence. 

“Okay, fine.”

“I’ll just forget about it,” Ryan sighed. “It’s not the worst thing anyone’s made fun of me for.” 

“What’s the worst thing?” Shane asked.’

“It’s a toss-up between claiming I can see the future and all the conspiracy theories.” Ryan said, and Shane snorted. 

“So you admit you’re only claiming you can see the future?”

“I’ve never claimed I can see the future,” Ryan said. “Divination is just getting an idea of…directions.”

“Look. I don’t want to get all mainstream on you, but that sounds like baloney, Ryan.”

“Fuck you,” Ryan said, but he couldn’t fight back a smile. “Wait ‘til I tell you about the ghosts.”

Shane outright laughed, scrubbing a hand across his face in a vaguely exhausted manner. Ryan remembered the reason both of them were exhausted, and his smile died. He bit his lip, fidgeting with the wand in his pocket. 

“You shouldn’t have to forget about it,” Shane said softly. “It was a _really_ dick move.”

Ryan nodded instead of arguing that Shane didn’t get it. He was trying his best. Ryan knew that.


	16. The Ghost of Christmas Present

The castle was eerily silent, students cowering in their dormitories and teachers talking in hushed voices at corridor intersections. Parents who had previously let their children remain for the holidays came to get them, hurrying them away from the gates and down towards the train station. 

On Christmas day, Ryan went down to the village and phoned his mom at first thing California time. He didn’t tell her about the attack. He hadn’t told her about any of the attacks; any mention of magic being even mildly dangerous made his mother’s voice go quavery. Ever since his brother had discovered him beaten half to death in a puddle on the walk home from school, Mom had been convinced that magic would be the end of him.

Ryan never pointed out that there had been no magic used. Just fists. And a few words. 

“Hey bro,” Jake’s voice crackled a little on the line as he yawned. “Happy Christmas.”

“Don’t tell Mom, but there’s an attacker on the loose in the castle,” Ryan said. 

“Yikes,” Jake said. “Is it like, a whole thing that the wizard cops are shit at their jobs? Because from all this stuff that you’ve told me that’s gone down at Hogwarts, they kinda sound like they’re shit at their jobs.”

“I think Shane was quite good at his job,” Ryan said. “But he’s retired.”

“Isn’t he the racist one?”

“No!” Ryan protested. “Well, I mean – he was only vaguely racist, and he’s apologised for it. A few times. It’s not his fault that pure-blood families are just dick breeding farms.”

“Again, wizard culture sounds like it’s the worst.” Jake said. “Also, I feel like it should be noted that you have brought up Shane Madej every time you’ve phoned me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryan said. 

When he got back to the castle, everyone (the teachers and three remaining students) was sat in the Great Hall surrounding by way too much food. Shane gave him a tight smile and a little wave. Ryan sat down next to Professor Longbottom. 

“Wotcher, Ryan,” He said. “Your tea plants are growing pretty well. Good job.” 

“Thanks, Neville,” Ryan said, passing him a platter piled high with roasted parsnips. The smell was heavenly; a stark contrast to the grim faces around the table. Even Professor Flitwick, irrevocably cheery at any given moment, was staring glumly into his turkey. The three students were picking listlessly at their food, Evie especially.

Shane caught up to him as he was leaving the Great Hall. 

“You’re, uh, wearing the robes I got you,” He said, a little gruffly. 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, feeling suddenly and inexplicably awkward. “Thanks again. Oh, I got you something.”

“You didn’t have to,” Shane said, but Ryan had already dragged the parcel from the inside pocket of his robes and thrust it at him. 

Shane unwrapped it to reveal a book: 101 Famous Hauntings in Britain and Ireland.

“Wow,” Shane said. “You’re a dick.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Ryan pointed out. Both broke out in shameless giggles. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Ryan.” Shane smiled softly. “The robes look good on you.” 

And then he was gone. 

A massive snowy owl was waiting for him in his classroom with a package clutched in his beak; it was a framed photograph of a hippogriff in flight from Hagrid. Ryan stared at it, watching the beast flutter its wings and soar in and out of the picture. He put it on the mantlepiece. 

He didn’t get Hagrid anything. He must look like an utter dick. He quickly found his tea box and some ribbon and tied some loose leaves up in a pretty bag and sent it back with the owl. 

Then he sat on his little sofa and stared into the dark fire and was suddenly struck with a deep and aching longing for his family, and for California. The bleak mood of the dinner had left him feeling utterly empty. He leant back and stared at the ceiling, horrified that he was fighting off tears that had come from nowhere. He would have really liked to see his mom today. 

He picked up the book that Devin had given him before she left - a copy of _Hogwarts: a Modern History_ by Bianca Bagshot. It fell open to the last page he had been reading.

_The winter of 1993 saw mass panic as rumours of mass murderer Sirius Black spread throughout the school. Despite Dementors sent to patrol the perimeter of the grounds, Ronald Weasley (then a third year, later to be Head Auror) claimed to have spotted Black in the dormitory where he and Harry Potter slept._

_It was dismissed at the time. Hermione Granger would later reveal in her 2013 testimony to the Wizengamot, prior to being elected Minister for Magic, that Black had been on several incursions into the school from his hideout in the Shrieking Shack via a tunnel leading under the Whomping Willow._

_To this day, Black’s life remains a mystery that is well outside the scope of this book. Those interested should try my book Black and White? An Examination of the Accusations Against Sirius Black_

__

__

_That school year ended with a bang, as outraged parents flooded the school with complaints after the reveal that Dumbledore had hired a werewolf as Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus Lupin promptly resigned…_

He got to his feet and looked out the window, where the Whomping Willow could be seen below, against a backdrop of the smoke piping from Hagrid’s chimney. He imagined three teenagers appearing from nowhere and sprinting across the grass to the base of the tree, and it shivered like it could see him watching and feeling. The scene morphed into a shabby-looking man stood frozen on the crest of the hill in the moonlight, whilst a dark-haired man tugged at his arm desperately. 

A knock at the trapdoor interrupted him, and he dashed his sleeve across his face quickly before pulling it open. Devin and Kristin were there, with their arms full of bottles and food. 

“Hello,” Devin sang, climbing through the trapdoor and dumping her food on the desk. 

“I thought – I thought you were in London.” Ryan said. 

“I was, but I thought it was real shame to leave you alone on Christmas Day, so I came back. Hello, Professor Rubin.” 

Ryan spun around to see that Sara Rubin was back in her portrait, a string of tinsel rendered in oil somehow strung around her neck. She gave him a wave and a little smile. 

Ryan had been too unsettled to eat very much at dinner, which was just wrong when it was Christmas, so the extra was actually appreciated. Kristin heated mugs of mulled wine in the fireplace and plied Ryan with them until he was feeling looser and happier. He couldn’t banish the sound of Shane’s voice from his head, telling him that he looked good in his robes. 

Unfortunately, the little Christmas cheer they had created for themselves couldn’t last; the castle was still cold and empty and quiet without students to occupy it. He and a gang of the younger staff spent New Year’s in the Three Broomsticks, with Hagrid tucked up in a corner booming about dragons to anyone who would listen, and the proprietor Madame Rosmerta sweeping in and out of customers with trays piled high with bottles of Butterbeer. 

Even Professor McGonagall peered in for a spell, joining in a chorus of Auld Lang Syne in a reedy voice and getting very red after her second drink. Once she had left, however, the Hogwarts cohort breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t do to get tipsy in front of one’s boss, even on Hogmanay. 

Ryan got drunker than was appropriate for a teacher, and Devin gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek at midnight that made him flush and Kristin roar with laughter. When he woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, there was an owl waiting for him from Professor Longbottom containing some root that smelt strongly of aniseed and a note telling him to stew it for a hangover cure. Judging from the smell wafting around the castle, many teachers had received similar packages. 

Ryan couldn’t sleep the night before classes were due to start, and found himself pulling a jumper on, digging the Maglight out of his trunk, and wandering out into the corridors.  
The castle was silent, almost creepily so. In places, the moonlight shining through the windows turned everything blue and cold. His footsteps echoed a little. The white light of the Maglight cast strange shadows across the castle walls, unused to electric light. Occasionally the light flickered oddly – hopefully just a by-product of the magic soaked into the stone floors. His breath fogged in the air when he passed a window. 

He thought he heard a faint howling from beyond a window and he whipped his head round, every student he had ever overheard fretting about what inhabited the Forbidden Forest very fresh in his mind. There was nothing to be seen from the window, however, and he wondered if he’d imagined it. 

As he was crossing the third floor, a door flew open and a rough voice said,

“You know you’re not allowed to be out of bed – oh, Ryan, it’s you,” 

Ryan, who had leapt so high in the air he nearly dropped the torch, put his hands on his knees whilst he recovered. Panting a little, he pointed the torch in Shane’s face, making him squint and shield his eyes. 

“What the fuck is that?” Shane asked, in a sleep-worn voice.

“It’s a flashlight,” Ryan said, waving the light around. “More Muggle tech.”

“What’s wrong with _lumos?_ ”

“Doesn’t have the right atmosphere for ghost hunting,” Ryan said. 

Shane seemed to sag a little, too tired to even question Ryan’s bullshit. Ryan realised he was wearing a plain t-shirt and soft pyjama pants, an unusually vulnerable look. The flashlight lit Shane once more, and Ryan saw silvery scars criss-crossing his arms. He immediately averted his eyes; Shane was so intensely private about his Auror past that even looking at its remnants seemed wrong. 

“Wanna come with?” Ryan asked. 

“Wanna sleep,” Shane grunted, folding his arms and hiding the scars. 

“Yeah, but, wanna come with?” Ryan said again. His shoulders jumped as an involuntary shiver ran through him; his thin jumper wasn’t enough for the castle at night. 

“Fine,” Shane said, disappearing back into his room and emerging with a red checked flannel and a pair of black-framed glasses on. 

“What would your parents say, Shane?” Ryan asked, faux-scandalised. “A Madej, wearing Muggle clothing?”

“Shut up, s’comfy.” Shane said. He was wearing moccasin slippers as well. He was holding a thick green and silver scarf in his hands that he looped round Ryan’s neck before Ryan could stop him. Ryan looked at him, but Shane just looked back with steady eyes, and so Ryan left the scarf on. 

“Ghosts?” Shane asked. 

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Ghosts.” 

“I have an idea,” Shane said, rubbing his arms to warm up a little. “Come on.”

Ryan followed him through a portrait and down a set of stairs, avoiding a trick step that wasn’t really there, out onto the second floor and through a door marked OUT OF ORDER. 

He heard a trickling of water and shone his flashlight around to reveal cubicles and sinks. It was a bathroom.

“What…is happening?” He said. 

“You want ghosts?” Shane said, a vaguely malicious glint in his eye. “Here’s a ghost.”

There was a keening noise, and a teenage girl with thick-lensed glasses drifted straight through one of the cubicle walls.

“Oh, it’s useless, it’s useless…” She wept. Her tears rolled down her long nose and off, but they did not hit the floor. Her Hogwarts robes swirled around her like she was underwater. 

“Hello?” Ryan called, and her head whipped round. 

“Who are you?” She hissed, in a voice with an unpleasant grating quality to it. 

“I’m Ryan,” Ryan said, trying not to let his hands shake. The girl vanished when the flashlight passed over her. “I teach Divination.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of you,” The ghost girl sniffed. 

“Who are you?” Ryan asked. 

“Myrtle.” She drifted up and down in place, apparently bored. 

“If you don’t mind me asking…how are you still here?” 

“I don’t know,” She said huffily. “All I did was die. I didn’t ask for any of this.” 

Shane was standing with his arms folded, staring at the sinks. As Ryan spoke to Myrtle, he reached out and ran his hand along the back of one of the taps, glancing up at the cracked mirror and then down at where the pipes met the floor. The white torch light reflected off the lenses of his glasses, hiding his eyes. 

“Do you ever see anyone who didn’t want to stay?” Ryan asked. “You know, like unquiet spirits.” 

“Nah,” Myrtle shrugged. “Just the Hogwarts ghosts, you know. I’ve heard Nearly Headless Nick whispering about the Divination Tower, though, but he won’t tell me what’s going on or let me go up there.” 

Shane’s head snapped up at the mention of the Divination Tower, and he stared at Ryan, who might have been on the verge of hyperventilating. 

“I told you,” Ryan said, breathless. “I told you there’s something going on in my room.” 

“Look, Ryan, just breathe-” Shane warned, and Myrtle scowled. 

“Everyone just has to bring up breathing when I’m around!” She screeched. “No respect for the dead!” She dived back through the cubicle wall with a gurgling of the pipes, and water began to seep out from underneath the stall. 

“Filch is going to go mad,” Shane muttered. “Come on.” He dragged Ryan out of the bathroom. 

“You heard her,” Ryan said as Shane practically shoved him back up the stairs. “There’s something in my tower!”

“You really shouldn’t sound so excited about it,” Shane grumbled. 

“I’m not excited, I’m _terrified,_ ” Ryan said, but the skip in his step betrayed him.

“What does Nick have to do with it? Why your tower?” Shane muttered, mostly to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Shane shook his head. “Nothing.”

He stopped outside his door and turned to face Ryan, swinging his arms back and forth.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” 

The question seemed to hang in the air. Ryan was suddenly very aware of Shane’s pyjama bottoms, the way Ryan’s jumper was rolled up to his elbows, the black-rimmed glasses. Everything seemed a little…blurred.

“I think I’m just gonna head back to bed,” He said. Shane’s face did not twitch. Ryan turned and left without even saying goodnight.


	17. The Trial in the Pensieve

But he couldn’t sleep; Myrtle’s words about the Divination Tower were echoing in his mind, and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the floorboards in his room. He realised that he had not given the scarf back. He dreamed of wandering out into the classroom and looking down at the Whomping Willow below and seeing its branches go still and quiet like it was any other tree.

The next morning, when he emerged from his bed bleary-eyed and unrefreshed, the snow was gone. Rain was pounding against the windows almost relentlessly, a wet break from the sharp cold that had existed over Christmas. He was supposed to begin teaching again today, and his head felt like it was full of cotton wool. 

He wandered down to the greenhouses in the pounding rain, splashing across the flooded vegetables patches without caring for his boots. The rain trickling down his neck, at least, was a reminder that he wasn’t totally numb. 

He stood under the heating charm that kept the tea plants warm and cosy and waited for it to dry his skin. He sat down on the warm earth and then lay back and closed his eyes, listening to the rain hammering on the glass ceilings and feeling the warm sun on his face. 

“Wotcher, Ryan,” He heard Longbottom say. The man walked with a slight limp that was more pronounced when the weather was bad. “That kind of morning, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ryan murmured, without opening his eyes. “That kind of morning.”

“Too bad,” Longbottom said cheerily, and Ryan heard the clunk of his shovel hitting the earth. 

“Do you believe in ghosts, Neville?” He asked. 

“Of course I do,” Longbottom said. “I’ve had enough encounters with Peeves I’d be mad to think otherwise.” 

“Some Muggles believe in ghosts too,” Ryan said. “Not exactly like ours. They’re less…real. They do a lot less talking.”

“Dunno if Muggles can be ghosts,” Neville mused, heaving clods of earth into a pile in the middle of the greenhouse. 

“Me neither,” Ryan said. “Why don’t you use magic to clear the soil away?”

“There’s something nice about doing it manually, isn’t there?” Neville said, brushing dirt off his hands. “And to be quite honest, me and magic don’t really get on.”

Ryan opened his eyes and sat up, leaning back on his hands. “I don’t get on with magic either.”

Neville shrugged, unperturbed by the admission. “My Gran thought I might be Squib for the first ten years of my life. I wasn’t, but Herbology’s always been my best subject. Probably because there isn’t that much magic actually involved.” 

“Not much in Divination, either.” Ryan said. 

“Well, we’re quite the pair, then,” Neville said, wiping his forehead (leaving a great smudge of dirt across his face) and grinning brightly at Ryan. 

Most students had returned from their holidays, though there were a few whose parents had thought it too dangerous to return. Ryan looked out across the classroom, noting the two empty seats (one of them Hannah’s), and cleared his throat. The conversation died down. 

“Today, we’ll be discussing the work of Nostradamus,” Ryan said, tapping the board, where the subject appeared. “Who actually did the reading over winter break?”

Evie’s hand shot into the air. She looked very small and lonely, sat at the desk alone. Nobody else put their hands up. 

“It’s fine,” Ryan said, waving a hand. “I didn’t think you would do it. Ten points to Ravenclaw, for going above and beyond, Evie.”

She smiled, but it was a little wan. 

“So, who was Nostradamus? When was he born?”

“He was born in 1503 and died in 1566,” Evie said. “In France,”

“Very good,” Ryan said. “And he is famous for…?”

“He saw the future.” Another student said. 

“Obviously, Jones, but how did he see the future?”

At lunchtime, he made his way down to the third floor and Shane’s office with the green and silver scarf in his hands. He had a vague notion that he would…apologise, but as he stopped outside the door he realised that this was ridiculous. He didn’t have anything to apologise for. It was very reasonable to turn down an invitation for tea at 3am. 

The door was slightly ajar, but the light was off. Ryan poked his head round, illuminating the lamps with a wave of his wand. He would have left again, but his eye was caught by a faint glow coming from a half-open cupboard. He crept over to it and drew it open to discover a stone basin that had odd runes carved round the edge and a silvery, only-half-corporeal mist swirling in its bottom. 

It was a Pensieve, though he had only read about them. An extremely rare magical artefact. He wondered how Shane had come across one. 

He also wondered what memories Shane had felt like reliving. 

His curiosity got the better of him, and he plunged his face into the mist and felt himself falling down, and down, as the shape of a court-room came into being around him as if emerging out of the mist. A chair with chains hanging from its arms materialised in the middle of a round arena, surrounded on three sides by benches that were populated with witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes. A black man with a bald head and a gold hoop in one ear sat in a sort of pulpit overlooking the other people. He shot red sparks out of his wand and the crowd fell silent. 

“The Wizengamot has reconvened on the investigation into the killing of Darius Greengrass.” Ryan looked down – he was sat on a cold, hard bench between a plump little man in a top hat and a younger witch with masses of frizzy brown hair, sharp eyes and straight teeth – and realised Shane was sat in the chair with the chains on the arms, wearing red robes and looking…very young. 

“The Wizangamot calls Auror Thomas James Marchbank to the stand,” The black wizard said, in a booming voice. Ryan saw TJ, also looking younger, stand up from his seat on a bench just below the guy in the pulpit. 

“Can you describe the events of the night of the 3rd of November?” The black wizard, presumably the Minister for Magic, said. 

“We’d been tracking Greengrass for a while,” TJ said. “We were certain that he had killed Maisie MacTavish in 2002. We had strong evidence of his involvement with two more murders. We caught up with him in the New Forest.” 

He sniffed, scratching his nose with one hand. Shane was ramrod straight in the seat, staring at a point a little to the right of TJ’s head.

“We chased him through the forest. Shane – Auror Madej was in the lead. Shane cornered him. When the rest of us arrived on the scene, Greengrass was dead.”

“Was Auror Madej responsible for that death?” The Minister asked. Shane’s eyes had gone a little glassy. 

“He cast the Killing Curse, yeah,” TJ said. “Why is – why is Shane here, if this is just an investigation? He’s not on trial.”

“As someone who was pivotal to events, Auror Madej is remaining on hand.” The Minister said. The frizzy-haired woman leaned through Ryan and whispered to the plump wizard. 

“This is ridiculous. My husband says Madej is the best Auror the department has ever seen. They won’t charge him with anything.” 

“Tell me, Auror Marchbank,” The minister said. “Do you believe that Madej would use the Killing Curse without good reason?”

TJ hesitated for just a minute. Everyone in the courtroom saw it. “As I was approaching the cliff edge where Greengrass was cornered, I heard…I heard Shane yelling. I think he said, ‘shut up’. But I know that Greengrass was a very dangerous fugitive.” He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t believe Shane would kill without good reason. I know him.”

The scene receded into the mist, and when it cleared again it was a different day. 

“The Wizengamot calls Auror Derek Travers to the stand. Auror Travers, do you believe Auror Madej would use the Killing Curse without good reason?”

The man on the stand was short and stocky, with a smug expression. He narrowed his eyes at Shane, whose face twitched into the smallest of sneers in response. 

“Madej’s never been quite…one of the gang, if you catch my meaning, Minister. He keeps to himself. A loner. I can’t say I know much about him at all,”

Travers’ brow furrowed. “But Greengrass was armed, and certainly dangerous. It doesn’t surprise me that lethal force was used against him. We were going to get him one way or another.”

The scene dissolved again, and another woman was on the stand, with long dark hair and thick eyebrows. 

“Auror Bones, what is your opinion of Auror Madej’s character?”

“We all go through the same training on use of non-lethal force, and de-escalation.” Auror Bones said, a little officious. “I do not doubt that Auror Madej, or any other member of the team, would not have used the Killing Curse if he felt he had any other option.” 

The scene dissolved once more, and Kelsey Impicciche was on the stand. 

The wizards around him were dressed differently, but Shane still wore the same red robes. The bags under his eyes were deeply pronounced; he was slumped in his chair like it was too much effort to sit upright.

“Shane’s a good man,” Kelsey said. “He always does the right thing.” But her hands were twisting nervously around the clasps on her robes, and she refused to meet Shane’s eyes. 

“Well then. In light of the given testimony…” The Minister said in his deep, booming voice. “The Wizengamot finds that Auror Madej was justified in using lethal magical force against Darius Greengrass. The investigation is dismissed.”

He banged the gavel and the wizards began to disperse, muttering cheerfully. Ryan noticed, to the left of the courtroom and behind a red cord, a group of witches and wizards all clutching notepads or old-fashioned cameras. He only noticed them because one of their number had vaulted the barrier and was running towards Shane.

“Auror Madej! How do you respond to reporters who are calling you a hero?”

Shane looked up, startled, and then frowned darkly. 

“Piss off,” He muttered. 

“Is that your official statement-” The journalist was interrupted by TJ Marchbank grabbing him by the arm and frogmarching him back to the rest of the press. 

Shane clambered to his feet like he was an old man, and stopped to stare at his hands for a moment. Ryan wondered if he could see a tear glinting in his down-turned eyes before he felt a lurching beneath his feet and he was dragged backwards until he had returned to the office of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

There were footsteps climbing the stairs outside. He hurriedly shut the cupboard with the Pensieve in it and flung himself to the other side of the room, trying to look natural. 

Shane entered and stopped dead. 

“Ryan,” He said. “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” Ryan stammered. He remembered the scarf clutched in his hands and shoved it towards him. “I was going to give you this back. But you weren’t here and I actually have somewhere to be so I was just about to go, and I’m…going to go now.”

“Hang on,” Shane said, grabbing Ryan by the upper arm as he went to leave, and Ryan’s mouth went dry so fast he almost choked. “I was going to come and find you anyway. You need to stay away from classroom 12A for a couple days.”

“Why?” Ryan asked, momentarily distracted. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Shane said, mouth quirking. “There’s just something in there that I have to sort out.”

“Right. Well. See you.” Ryan muttered, and he ducked out of the door, leaving Shane staring after him bewilderedly. 

His hands were shaking. The events he had seen in the Pensieve were playing behind his eyes like a zoetrope: Shane slumped in the chair with the chained arms, Kelsey Impicciche fidgeting in the witness box, the reporter demanding to know whether Shane was a hero.

“Me and you both, buddy,” Ryan muttered. A painting gave him a suspicious glance, and he waved it off awkwardly.


	18. The Demon of Classroom 12A

Shane had told him to stay away from the classroom on the 12th floor – it was almost directly below Ryan’s. He should probably do what Shane said. He didn’t have any need to go in there; it was a spare room, full of old books and empty cabinets. 

He was so distracted that he ran straight into a student coming round the corner, a boy with dark hair and a Hufflepuff tie, and he realised it was Albus Potter. 

“Sorry, Professor,” He said, straightening his robes. 

“No worries. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Ryan said. Albus was clutching a book. Ryan could make out the words _“Double Agent: the Severus Snape Story”_ on the cover. “Is that…for a class?”

Albus looked down at the book, realised what he was talking about, and flushed. “No. I’m curious.”

Ryan said nothing. The youngest Potter’s namesake was fairly common knowledge, but it seemed a little creepy to bring it up, and it was obvious that the boy knew he knew. 

“He was an interesting man,” He said, finally. 

“Yeah,” Albus scuffed his foot on the floor. “You know – my dad tries his best, but I don’t always agree with his decisions.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like naming me after a pretend Nazi.” Albus’ brow was furrowed, still staring down at the book. “He’s told this Skeeter woman more about Snape than he’s ever been willing to tell me.”

Albus shook his head, seemed to realise that Ryan was there for the first time and hurried away. Ryan stood staring at the spot he had been for a while, trying to process what the boy had just told him, before deciding he could not and firmly pushing it out of his mind. 

He walked past the door to 12A, firmly closed, on his way back up the stairs. The encounter with Albus had driven his thoughts of Shane’s warning right out his head. There was a sign on the door in Shane’s neat, blocky handwriting: _KEEP OUT – S. Madej_

“You don’t need to go in there.” Ryan said to himself. “You can leave it alone.” 

He nodded firmly to himself and moved on, taking himself up the stairs and away from the classroom. 

The good news in his life was that Evie had started to perk up again: she took more interest in his classes and less interest in staring out the window, and even chatted with some other classmates. Ryan suspected he had divined the reason for this when the OWL class handed in the essays he had set on Nostradamus, and Evie shoved two sets of parchment at him. Before he could ask her about it, she had dived out the door and down the trapdoor and vanished in the stream of children leaving for dinner. 

He set the first bit of parchment – _Nostradamus’s influence on Divination methodologies in Enlightenment France by Evie Adeola_ – down and stared at the second piece. 

_Nostradamus Couldn’t See the Future: an Essay by H. Greengrass._

He shuffled through the papers on his desk until he came up with another essay Hannah had written and compared the handwriting of the two – a pretty good match. His eyes alighted on the last words. 

_In conclusion, whilst Nostradamus’s supporters point out the similarities between his work and later events in Muggle history, many of these so-called similarities are the result of misinterpretations. As discussed, many noted academics have rejected these claims, some even citing deliberate mistranslation as the reason for apparent clairvoyance in Nostradamus’ work. Thus it is clear that Les Prophecies was only a literary work, and not Divination._

“Damn, Hannah,” He muttered, setting the parchment down and rubbing a hand across his face. He hurried down the ladder, on his way to find Evie in the rabble of students that had filled the corridors as classes finished across the school. He spotted a gap in the crowd and dived through it, finding himself in the empty corridor outside classroom 12A. The handwritten sign seemed to be glaring at him, and he was struck immediately with the image of Shane slumped in the courtroom chair, the way he had snarled at that journalist. 

“You gotta find Evie, man,” He said to himself. “Leave it alone.”

His feet did not move from their spot on the stone floor.

“You don’t need to go in there!” Ryan hissed. Then he reached out a hand and pushed the door open. 

The classroom was empty, as he had suspected: a fine layer of dust, perhaps a couple of weeks’ worth, lay across the desks, which were scattered at haphazard angles around the room. 

The chalkboard had some ancient runes and their translations scrawled across it, half scrubbed out. A cabinet on the other side of the room had one door hanging open, revealing some mouldering textbooks. 

He was about to turn round to leave, when the other door of the cabinet swung open of its own volition. He felt his heart-beat stutter. 

The classroom was empty. There was no sign that anything could have moved the door. 

Between one blink and the next, a young man appeared in the middle of the room: Ryan’s height, with square, thick-rimmed glasses and a baseball cap.

“…Jake?!” Ryan demanded. “What – how are you here?” 

“Can’t a guy come to visit his big brother?” He asked, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth a little. “I’m being, uhhh, spontaneous.”

“But…you can’t be here,” Ryan said, a frown slowly growing on his face. “You can’t be inside the castle.”

“Just because I’m a Muggle, or whatever the fuck they call it? It’s just racism, Ryan. They’re racist.”

“…Muggle,” Ryan said. 

“What about it?”

“How do you know that word? Americans call you a No-Maj.” 

“You said it.” Jake shrugged, but his dark eyes did not blink. 

“I don’t think I have,” Ryan said, his insides growing icy cold. “I really don’t.”

“Man, that didn’t take you very long,” The Jake thing said, an uncharacteristically mirthless smile spreading across his face. “But I promise it’s me, Ry.” 

His eyes were dark, darker than they had been the last time Ryan had seen his brother face-to-face, he was sure, and he realised there were no whites left in them. 

“What are you?” His voice cracked, and he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand. He was starting to experience that crystalline sense of clarity that came with adrenaline. Before he could pull it out, Jake had disappeared and reappeared in front of him and grabbed his wrist. 

He was unnaturally strong. He leered down at Ryan, somehow grown taller than him. The smell of sulphur was filling his nose, suffocating. The door had slammed shut behind him, and Ryan had no clue what to do if he couldn’t use magic, and even if he did, he had no recollection of a textbook telling him the counter-curse for a- a-

“Little bro struggled for a long time, but it was no good,” The Jake thing said in a low voice. “No human will can overcome mine.”

“Demon,” Ryan whispered, and a terrible smile spread across his brother’s face. He let go of Ryan’s wrist only to clasp a hand around his throat, leaning in so close Ryan could see that the black eyes were limitless, fathomless, blacker than Hell itself. He opened his mouth to scream and found that the thumb pressing into his carotid artery prevented any sound. 

“There’s nothing you can do,” It whispered, terrifyingly softly. “You’re nothing without your wand. You’re barely anything _with_ the wand. How does it feel, to be so helpless?”

Ryan said nothing; there was a ringing sound rising in his ears, and the edges of his vision were starting to go fuzzy. Jake’s hand was burning him where it clutched at his neck. 

“First you, then it’s some of these children, then it’s back across the pond,” the demon mused. Its breath stank of brimstone. “Wonder what Mom will say when I-”

The door flew open with a bang and Shane burst in, his eyes hard. His wand twirled, and the demon let go of Ryan with a yelp. It narrowed its eyes at Shane and with a crack, Ryan’s brother vanished. 

In his place, a woman with white blonde hair and sunken eyes stared at Shane. She raised a hand to point at Shane, opened her mouth to speak and Shane said “ _Riddikulus._ ” 

She vanished just as Jake had done. This time, there was nothing left. 

Ryan fell backwards without the demon holding him up, and Shane caught him with a hand in the back of his robes. 

“Are you okay?” Shane demanded, hauling Ryan back to his feet and searching his face quickly. “Did it hurt you?”

“What – what the fuck-” Ryan gasped.

“I told you,” Shane said quietly. “I told you not to come in here.”

“What was that?!” Ryan demanded. Shane’s apparent lack of concern meant that his constitution was rapidly returning, and he tore his robes out of Shane’s grasp. 

“A Boggart, you…reckless fool,” Shane said. His eyes were flashing, and Ryan realised he was very angry. “You saw the sign on the door, right? And you know how to read?”

“Hey!” Ryan said. Shane shoved his wand back in his pocket with such force that it had to have hurt. 

“All I needed was 24 hours to deal with the Boggart. You couldn’t keep out of things for 24 fucking hours.”

“Lay off, man-” Ryan said, and Shane scoffed. 

“I hope you realise that you could have been seriously hurt. It could have escaped, and a student could have been seriously hurt.”

Ryan said nothing, jaw fixed. He knew Shane was right, but if he’d known it was a Boggart, he would have left it alone!

“What’s your issue?” Shane demanded. 

“Nothing,” Ryan muttered. “I have to go.”

Shane did nothing, letting him slink away with his tail between his legs. Ryan stomped back along the corridor to his classroom, hands clenched with anger that had no release, suppressed by the fact that it was utterly unjustified. Shane had been right: he should have kept his nose out. 

“Gosh, you look ready to hit someone,” Sara said dryly, reclining in her portrait. 

“Whatever,” Ryan muttered.

“I’m bored,” She complained. “Are you going to angst out again?”

“Fuck off, Sara,” He said, and went into his room and slammed the door behind him. Being proven wrong was…the worst. 

Then he remembered his little brother’s eyes turning inky black, felt the unbreakable grip encircle his arm and he collapsed against the wall with a hand over his eyes. He fumbled in his robes for the mobile phone, but the screen was flashing white and blue – no electronics in the castle. He let it fall to the floor with a crack, uncaring, as he leant back against the door to rest his shaking knees. 

Shane had saved him. Ryan would never have realised that it was a Boggart. 

That horrible grin spreading across his brother’s face flashed through his mind again, and he wondered if there were tears running down his face. 

He heard a faint moaning and sighed. 

“Maisie, this is a bad time. For real.”

Despite his warning, the girl rose from the floorboards with sightless eyes pinning Ryan to his place against the door. Her mouth opened and closed like she was gasping for breath, though her chest didn’t move. 

Ryan buried his face in his hands and didn’t look until he felt the shadow that had fallen across his bedroom lift. If he just ignored all his problems, they would all eventually go away. 

It was a philosophy that had served him well, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep at it. It was harder and harder to ignore things these days.


	19. Mudblood and Proud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys sorry this is slightly late and kinda short? Have had a shit week tbh, I read all your comments even if I don't reply and I appreciate them more than I can say. Thank you for reading xxx

When he’d recovered, he stumbled through to the classroom and lit the fire – “ _inflamare. Inflamare!_ Goddamnit, _infla-fucking-mare-_ ” – and fumbled for a teacup. He dropped the first one, swore loudly, then repaired it. His hands were still shaking slightly. 

Sleeping that night was an exercise in futility. It wasn’t even the terrible half-doze, where Ryan could feel himself teetering on the edge of sleep but unable to take the last step; it was like running into a cold, stone wall of fear when he closed his eyes. 

The next morning, when he descended bleary-eyed into the castle, he spotted a cloud of curly dark hair moving through the corridors ahead. He hurried forward and grabbed Evie by the collar, pulling her to the side of the students streaming down to breakfast from the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor common rooms. 

“How did you get that essay?” He demanded. 

“I wrote it, Professor, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of-” Evie said, not meeting his eyes. 

“Hannah’s essay.” Ryan said shortly. 

“I’m…pleading my fifth amendment rights,” Evie said. 

“This is Britain, Evie.”

“I still have the right to remain silent, I just couldn’t remember what it was called.” Evie said. She was looking very deliberately at the vaulted ceiling overhead. 

“Fine, whatever,” Ryan threw his hands up. “Enjoy lunch, don’t get caught.” 

He stamped an A on Hannah’s essay, wrote _“relies too heavily on secondary sources, could potentially get Evie in trouble please reconsider actions. Also, don’t refer to Nostradamus as ‘Strad’.”_ in red ink. There was no way he could get away with giving Evie’s essay less than an O, though he was pretty begrudging about it. 

She clutched the parchment to her chest and nodded at him when she read the feedback, but her eyes were alight with something Ryan found extremely exasperating. 

“There’s no point in telling you to stop, huh?” He said. 

“No, sir,” She said happily, and skipped back to her desk. 

He shook his head wearily. 

He had only just sat down to his breakfast the next morning when the Daily Prophet was shoved in his face. 

“Have you seen this?” Kristin Chirico was the shover of the paper. Ryan looked up at her.

“You read the Prophet?!” He asked incredulously. 

“It’s Professor Sinistra’s. Just read it.”

_Tuesday the Second of February_

_MUGGLEBORN PROTESTORS ARRESTED OUTSIDE MINISTRY OF MAGIC._

“Why would you show me this?” Ryan demanded, and Kristin took a step back. “This has nothing to do with me!”

“Alright man, I just thought you’d be interested.”

“Well, I’m not,” Ryan said harshly, and Kristin narrowed her eyes. 

“You should be,” She said. “Our civil liberties are at risk.”

Ryan blinked and nodded, cowed. He read the front page aloud. _“Muggleborn activists were arrested on Thursday after using magic on a Muggle street. Muggleborns gathered at a protest in aid of Muggleborn rights outside the entrance to the Ministry for Magic on Dippet Square, but proceedings quickly devolved into chaos. Chants could be heard streets away.Events came to a head when two protestors used the Levitation charm on their signs in plain view of passing Muggles, and Magical Law Enforcement (already present on the scene as a precaution) were forced to intervene."_

He gulped, watching the picture of the protestors as they thrust signs in the air; they were painted with slogans like Mudblood and Proud, and Blood Status is Bullshit. 

“Yikes,” Ryan muttered. 

“Keep going,” Kristin said grimly.

He flicked to the page where the story continued. _“Minister for Magic Hermione Granger made a statement supporting the protestors’ cause (Granger is a Muggleborn) but strongly condemned the use of magic in public as contrary to the Statute of Secrecy.”_

At that moment, an owl landed next to Ryan. It was carrying a copy of the Wizarding Age. Ryan ditched the Prophet and grabbed that instead, scanning over the front page. 

**PROTEST FOR MUGGLEBORN RIGHTS THROWN INTO CHAOS**

“They arrested fifteen people? The Prophet says only two people were actually using magic!” Ryan said, staring dumbfounded at the two papers in either hand. 

“Yeah,” Kristin said, face set. 

“This is bullshit,” Ryan said, flinging the Wizarding Age down onto his plate. “Why doesn’t Granger do anything? She’s Muggleborn too!”

“Professor, please refrain from swearing in front of the children.” McGonagall hissed. 

“Granger won’t do anything, she’s too busy pandering to the Ministry,” Kristen said in a low voice. “She can’t do anything that will threaten the senior ministers.” 

Kristin grabbed the Prophet and went back to her seat, throwing Ryan a meaningful look over her shoulder. 

“This week will be dedicated to astrology. Any initial thoughts?” He said to his first class, and a hand shot into the air. 

“Yes, Evie?” He said on autopilot, before he realised that it wasn’t Evie’s hand: it was a pale girl with black hair. 

“My name’s Rachel, sir,” She said. “Rachel Chang.”

“Sorry,” Ryan said. “Long day.”

“It’s first period, sir.”

“What can you tell me about astrology?”

“Well, it’s super cool, and I’m a Capricorn, which is the Goat sign, and that means I’m determined and helpful, which I am, and if I had to guess I’d say you’re probably a Cancer-”

“Thanks, Rachel,” He interrupted. “For anyone else who doesn’t know, astrology is the practice of divining the future from the movement of the stars. The Zodiac is one way of doing that. Also, I’m a Sagittarius.” He said. 

He wandered up and down the aisles between the desks as the OWL students filled out their star charts. “For your homework, finish these tonight ready to start interpreting them tomorrow.” He said as they all filed out.

The next morning, Evie dropped two pieces of parchment on his desk once again, and he saw the one marked Hannah Greengrass and dated yesterday was filled out immaculately. He sighed, scrubbing a palm over his face.

“Are you doing this for all your classes?” He asked wearily.

“Just you, Professor Madej, and Professor Borden.” Evie said. “You guys are the only ones who won’t get me in trouble.”

“I might still get you in trouble,” Ryan said.

“Sure!” Evie said cheerily, and took her star chart back to her desk. 

“I’m keeping this,” Ryan called after her, throwing Hannah’s chart into a drawer in his desk. 

He went to the library after classes had finished, winding his way through the shelves to the newspaper archives at the back. He pulled out all the clippings on Hermione Granger relating to the Ministry for Magic: a front-page from the Daily Prophet that read _“Granger Gone Gaga?”_ with an extremely unflattering photograph of the bushy-haired woman, which he promptly threw away, and a clipping from the Wizarding Age from 2014 that read _“Travers Leads In Polls: Wizards Rejecting the Political Establishment?”_

The Wizarding Age was an opinion piece describing how Granger had fought corruption in the Ministry.

_All three of the so-called Golden Trio have been extremely vocal about what they perceive as lack of integrity in magical government. Whilst Ronald Weasley has led the Auror Department to reasonable success, Potter has vanished into the countryside: the famous killer of Lord Voldemort has not been seen in public since his high-profile breakdown of 2007. Granger has perhaps followed her principles the most closely: she has been a vocal member of the Wizengamot for the last four years, and has made great strides in legislation as head of the Department for Control of Magical Creatures (referred to by Granger as the Magical Creature Liaison Office). However, the path of her career and her centrist policies have perhaps led some wizards to view her as a political insider of the institution she so often vows to change…_

Another clipping drifted down to gently land in front of him: Granger’s Equality Act Passes House. He batted it aside, sighing, and pushing himself to his feet. 

That Friday night was a quiet one, the full moon high in the sky as the wind meandered around the Divination tower mournfully. Ryan was awake, trying his best to mark the second years’ essays on Peter Hurkos before tomorrow, but the flickering candlelight was beginning to strain his eyes. He dropped his biro and rubbed at his eyes, leaning back in his chair. 

The words still swam on the parchment. He got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head and yawning loudly. A gust of wind rattled the diamond pane windows. He looked out, seeing the Whomping Willow silhouetted against the harsh moonlight. As he looked, it began to swipe at something Ryan could not see, before suddenly freezing. He stared, bemused, until the branches shivered again as normal. He blinked, rubbing his eyes again, but the tree swayed back and forth as it always did. 

“Man, you need to go to bed,” He muttered to himself.


	20. Suspected

He was awoken in the morning by a crashing sound from the classroom, and he rolled out of bed and onto the cold stone floor before he’d even realised he was awake. 

“What the fuck?!” He said, hauling on a set of robes before stumbling through to the other room to see TJ Marchbank upending his room. 

“What the fuck?!” He said again, and Marchbank looked up. 

“Oh, you’re there,” He said, pulling books out the shelf and letting them fall to the ground. “Where were you last night?” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Ryan demanded. 

“Searching your office,” Marchbank said, moving to the mantlepiece and going through his teabox. 

“Leave that alone!” Ryan said, but the tea had already gone everywhere. “Don’t you need a warrant for this?”

“What’s a warrant?” Marchbank asked. The door flew open and Kelsey Impicciche strode into the room. 

“The classroom was unlocked with magic,” She said. “McGonagall says she had the only key.” 

“What is going on?!” Ryan said, and Marchbank pointed his wand at him. “Jesus Christ, dude!”

“Mr. Bergara, sit down over there. We’ll get to you shortly.” 

“I have rights,” Ryan said, but he sat at the desk that Marchbank had pointed to. 

“Hannah Greengrass has escaped from detainment,” Kelsey said. “What were you doing last night, Ryan?” 

“I was in here, marking essays,” Ryan said. 

“Can anyone confirm that?” Impicciche asked. 

“Am I really a suspect in this? Do I need a lawyer?” Ryan asked.

“Answer the question.” Marchbank said, opening the lids of each desk in turn. 

“No, no one can confirm that,” Ryan said. Marchbank finished emptying out the desks and ducked through into Ryan’s room. 

“Come on, man,” Ryan complained. “This is where I live.”

“I know you had something to do with this, Bergara,” Marchbank called through from the other room, and Ryan heard a lot of crashing and banging. “What are these?”

Marchbank came back through holding Ryan’s tarot cards. 

“They’re tarot cards.” Ryan said.

“Take them, Kelsey, and check them for hidden messages,” Marchbank flung them at Kelsey. She gave him a grumpy look but began to run her wand over the cards, muttering under her breath. Of course, they remained the same.

Marchbank continued to cause havoc around Ryan’s classroom, upending papers on the desk and pulling the drawers out until he saw something that made him freeze. 

_Oh God damn it,_ Ryan thought, as he seized the piece of parchment with Hannah Greengrass’ star chart on it. 

“What the hell is this?” Marchbank demanded. 

“It’s a star chart,” Ryan said. 

“I can see that.” Marchbank said. “How do you have it?”

“I’m invoking the fifth amendment,” Ryan said. 

“This is Britain,” Marchbank snarled. 

“I still have the right to remain silent,” Ryan said. Kelsey opened her mouth to say something, but the door crashed open again and Shane burst in. He was wearing his pyjamas, his black-rimmed glasses, and the red flannel. 

“Ryan had nothing to do with it,” He blurted, puffing like he had been running. “Can confirm. He was with me.”

“Shane, he literally just told us he was alone when Hannah escaped,” Marchbank scoffed.

“You…dumbass,” Shane huffed. “Fine, that was a lie, but Ryan didn’t have anything to do with this.” 

“I found this star chart in his desk,” Marchbank said, brandishing the star chart. “Greengrass hasn’t been to class in two weeks. Why does he have this?”

“I dunno, but Ryan’s a little weirdo. Hannah probably handed it before she was taken into custody and Ryan’s just kept it.” Shane said, his breathing returning to normal. 

“It’s dated Thursday.” Marchbank said through tight lips. 

“Ah…yikes. You’ve made some mess in here, huh.” Ryan wasn’t sure if Shane was talking to him or TJ. 

“Stay out of this, Shane,” Marchbank said. “You might be my friend but you’re also retired.” 

There was a knock on the door, and all four adults looked round to see Evie standing at the door. 

“What are you doing here?” Ryan said, jumping to his feet and raising his hands when Marchbank pointed his wand at him. 

“Cool it, TJ,” Shane said sharply. 

“I – I saw Professor Madej running past the stairs to Ravenclaw tower.” Evie stammered, looking nervously between Ryan, Shane, and the two Aurors. “Is Hannah alright?” 

“Get this kid out of here,” TJ said gruffly. 

“Hannah’s escaped.” Ryan said, looking meaningfully at Evie. “And that obviously has nothing to do with you, right?” 

“It doesn’t!” Evie said. “Genuinely, Professor, I didn’t do anything-” 

Ryan glared at Evie and she snapped her mouth shut. 

“You’d better explain this before we take you into custody, Professor,” Marchbank said, still waving the star chart. 

“I did it!” Evie said before Ryan could say anything. “I wrote that and handed it into Professor Bergara so Hannah wouldn’t fall behind in class! I thought I could help her keep her grades up!” 

Ryan and Shane both stared at Evie, open-mouthed. Marchbank’s eyes narrowed. 

Fortunately, Shane recovered his wits before anything else could go wrong. 

“Look, TJ, maybe Ryan doesn’t have an alibi, but you don’t have any other evidence connecting him to Hannah.” Shane said. Marchbank opened his mouth to protest, but Shane cut him off. “I’m willing to vouch for him. He wouldn’t do something like this.” 

“Fine,” Marchbank said, stowing his wand back in his robes. “But I’ve got my eye on you, Bergara.” 

Kelsey waved to Shane as the two went back out the door, Kelsey quietly shutting it behind her. Immediately, Ryan grabbed Evie by the tops of her shoulders. 

“Was that true, what you told Auror Marchbank? Did you write that star chart?”

“N-no,” Evie said, lip trembling. 

“Listen, Evie, please,” Ryan said, leaning down to be on eye-level with her. “Don’t ever lie to an Auror for me again. It’s not worth it.”

“Quick-thinking though,” Shane said. 

“Don’t encourage her,” Ryan said. “How did Hannah get those essays to you?”

“She slipped them through a crack in the window, and James Potter got them on his broom.” She said. 

“Merlin’s pants,” Shane muttered. “Surely someone would have seen him?”

“He has an invisibility cloak,” Evie shrugged. Shane and Ryan looked at each other and both simultaneously came to the conclusion that that was not their problem. 

“Evie, you have to be careful. Promise me.” Ryan said. 

“I promise, Professor,” Evie said quietly. Ryan stepped back, wiping a hand across his brow and sighing. 

“Go on, kid. It’s Saturday, go enjoy the Saturday.” 

Evie nodded quickly and practically scurried out the door the way the Aurors had gone. Ryan collapsed into his chair, hiding his face in his hands. They were silent for a long time. 

“Some morning, huh?” Shane said. 

“Thought I was about to be dragged to Azkaban,” Ryan said, a little hoarse. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you last week,” Shane said abruptly, and Ryan looked up.

“What? Oh, that. It’s cool, you were right.” 

“Damn, that was easy,” Shane said. 

“Just had a near-prison experience, I have a lot of perspective on life right now.” Ryan muttered. 

“You said I was right.” Shane sat down next to him. 

“Hannah’s escaped?” Ryan said, springing back to his feet and pacing back and forth. “Did she break herself out? What the fuck is going on?” 

Shane held his hands up like he was trying to soothe a wild animal. “Ryan. I had a look at the classroom. Nobody forced entry. The charms were undone by someone who knew what they were looking for. Hannah did not have a wand.” 

“Yeah but she’s _sneaky,_ and her and Evie have been exchanging notes?! Jesus Christ-” Ryan said. 

“Chill out.” Shane said. “I don’t think she could have done it. And Evie certainly wouldn’t, she’s too preppy. No rule breaking.” 

Ryan stopped his pacing and sighed. “What is going on? Why is this happening?” 

“I dunno,” Shane shrugged. “We’ll sort it out.”

“We?” Ryan asked. “Not the Aurors?” 

“They’re, uh, occasionally misguided, and I can say that because I used to be one.” Shane said. “I mean, they were busy interrogating you instead of searching for a missing student, for fuck’s sake.” 

“Careful,” Ryan warned. “You never know who’s listening in.” 

Shane mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. Ryan giggled. 

“Here, let me help you out,” Shane said, pulling his wand out his shirt pocket and waving it casually through the air. The papers rearranged themselves on the desk, the tea jumped back into its box, and the desks lined themselves back up again. Ryan grabbed his tarot cards from where Kelsey had dropped them and reshuffled them, tucking them back into the pocket of his robes. 

A draft meandered through the room, making the hairs on the backs of Ryan’s arms rise, and he shivered, pulling his robes closer round him. 

“Are you…only wearing your robes?” Shane asked.

“That’s not a question you ask a lady,” Ryan said, and Shane immediately flushed. 

“Sorry, you’re right, yikes-”

“Chill out, man,” Ryan laughed. “I got woken up in a hurry this morning. Anyway, you’re only wearing your pyjamas.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I am,” Shane said, looking down at his long body. “I’d better – better go get changed. See you around.” And with that, he vanished down the trapdoor. 

Ryan slumped back into his chair, taking the tarot cards out his pocket and shuffling them idly. He drew a card and turned it over. The Five of Coins again: _opposites attract, but beware infatuation_. He sighed and shoved it back into the pack. He’d had enough encounters with law enforcement at this point to last him a lifetime.


	21. A Summons to London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive reached that point in the life of this story where these are just characters of my own invention that happen to be called Ryan and Shane.

He went to put the cards back in their box and found that the bedroom was still turned upside down. He sighed and began to put everything away manually. Underneath the contents of his sock drawer, he found the gloves that Shane had given him, with the label still attached. The sun was breaking in rays through the vaguely grimy windows of the bedroom. He sighed, put a shirt on, and tore the label off the gloves. 

When he made his way outside, the day was cold but clear, with the sun warm on his face. He shoved his gloved hands deep in his pockets and made his way around the lake, watching as the giant squid stretched its tentacles about above the water to bask in the warm sun. 

When he looked up at the Divination tower, he thought he saw a face at the window, and possibly the stump of a wrist pressed against the glass. A shadow passed across the tower and the face vanished, but the sun was slowly passing behind a cloud, and all the students who had been enjoying their Saturday morning by the lake began to shiver and make their way inside. 

The adrenaline that had come from facing down the Aurors had faded, leaving him feeling heavy in the limbs. He waved to the squid, who waved back before sliding back into the water, and followed the other students inside. 

Of course, the news of Hannah escaping and the search of his classroom had spread around the whole school when Ryan stumbled out of his classroom on Monday morning; students pointed and whispered as he passed by. Evie caught his eye, flushed, and looked away again. He sighed and took a seat at the high table next to Shane, who had swapped the PJs for dark blue robes over a crisp white shirt. Shane handed him a cup of coffee and opened the letter that had been dropped on his plate by the owl swooping overhead. 

“Thanks man,” Ryan said, taking a deep drink of the coffee. The coffee at the Hogwarts breakfast table was a mixed bag: some days it was vaguely burnt, but most days it was good and hot. Ryan was so exhausted he would have been happy if it was just hot and caffeinated. 

“Oh shit,” Shane said quietly, examining the piece of parchment closely. 

“Everything okay?” Ryan asked. 

“Eh…yeah,” Shane said. “Did you get a letter?” 

The minute he had said it, an envelope landed on his plate, making his coffee slosh about. “Damn,” Ryan said, picking it up and tearing it open. 

_Auror Office_  
End of West Corridor  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement  
Ministry of Magic  
London 

_RYAN STEVEN BERGARA,_

_You are formally summoned to present yourself for testimony regarding a sensitive Auror investigation on FRIDAY the 15th of FEBRUARY 2019. Please confirm that you will be in attendance via return owl. Failure to make yourself available for questioning may result in prosecution. An overview of your legal rights can be found in the pamphlet entitled: DO WIZARDS HAVE LAWYERS? A GUIDE, available at the reception of the Auror Office._

_Kind Regards,_

_Ronald Weasley  
Head Auror_

“Oh shit,” Ryan said. 

“I’m coming with you,” Shane said immediately. 

“How do you know what it said?” Ryan asked.

“Kelsey’s sent me a warning,” Shane said. “Teej is on the warpath.”

“What’s his problem?” Ryan complained. “I haven’t done anything.” 

“He’s a good guy,” Shane said, staring out at the sea of pupils scarfing down breakfast before they went to class. “He’s…strongly principled.”

“Damn,” Ryan muttered. 

“I’m coming with you,” Shane said again. 

“Nah, man, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” Shane said, jaw jutting a little. “You have to be careful, man. Strange shit goes down in Magical Law Enforcement. Sirius Black didn’t even get a trial.”

“Um…wow.” Ryan said. “Yeah, yeah, sure, let’s go. London.”

“We’ll make a day of it,” Shane said, vanishing the parchment with a flick of his wand and getting up to leave. 

“It’s a date,” Ryan said as he walked away, and he saw Shane trip over his robes before righting himself, shaking his head and continuing without looking back at Ryan. 

“Professor,” McGonagall bustled up to him. “You have a free period? Can I have a word?”

Ryan followed her back to her office, where she took a seat behind her desk and stared at him over steepled hands. 

“How do you think your classes are going, Ryan?” She asked abruptly. 

“Um,” Ryan said, taken aback. “Good? I’ve not had any complaints.”

“A couple of sixth year students have asked if they can start the NEWT course a term late.” McGonagall said. 

“Oh, wow,” Ryan said, blowing his cheeks out. “Um…NEWTs are two years, right?”

“Yes,” McGonagall said. “And the level of independent study expected is much higher than OWL.” 

“Then I guess we’d be fine?” Ryan said. “They can catch up in time to sit the intermediary exam at the end of this year, I think.”

“Good,” McGonagall said, pulling a teacup towards her and tapping it; it filled with tea. “I’ll send you an updated timetable.”

“Also, I need the day off on Friday.” Ryan said. 

“What for?” McGonagall asked. 

“Jury duty,” Ryan hedged. 

“Wizards don’t have juries.” McGonagall said. 

Ryan sighed, and pulled the letter out of his robes. “I’ve been summoned by the Auror Department.”

McGonagall took the letter and read it, her lips thinning. By the time she handed it back, her mouth had practically vanished. 

“That’s fine,” She said.

“Shane – I mean, Professor Madej is coming with me.” Ryan said. 

“Good.” She said. “You’d better get to class.” 

He left the Headmistress’ office, stopped outside the door to stare at his hands for a minute, then took off running up the stairs. He crashed into the classroom, scrambling in his drawer for the NEWT syllabus he’d been given in September. 

It was very long. 

“Oh shit,” Ryan said. There was a tapping at the window, and he whipped round to see a large screech owl clutching an envelope. He tore it open to reveal his timetable with extra classes titled NEWT scrawled in three times a week. 

This was fine. He could do this. He had to go to London on Friday. He could do this. 

His OWL class before lunch was horribly distracted. 

“Alright guys, who’s finished their star charts?”

Rachel Chang put her hand up. “Sir, where’s Hannah Greengrass?” 

At the back of the class, Evie’s head snapped up. 

“I – what makes you think I know?” Ryan spluttered.

“Oh, well, you guys had that whole like, mentor thing going on. You know, like, ooh she’s a troubled student but you’re the teacher with the good heart determined to reach out to her and see her as a person instead of just a stereotype and she responds positively to authority for the first time in her life-”

“Stop that!” Evie said, a little heated. “You didn’t know her!”

“Rachel, that’s enough. Evie, don’t talk about Hannah like she’s dead.” Ryan said. “I’m sure this whole thing will be sorted out by the _appropriate authorities._ ” 

“Fine,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. 

“Okay, now, who actually filled out their star chart?” Ryan said. The hands remained firmly on the desks, even Evie’s. He sighed. “Finish them now.” 

He flopped down at his desk as the students got to work, mostly chatting to one another across aisles instead of writing out their star charts. Evie’s eyes were pointed firmly at the parchment. 

He took out the NEWT syllabus and tried to plan a lesson for tomorrow, but the events of the weekend seemed to just be catching up with him; when he thought of the trip to London, his stomach twisted around inside him like it was gaining sentience. He threw down his quill, sighing, and stared out the window at the greying skies. 

The classroom slipped away, and he felt the crunch of the gravel under his feet, heard the other muggleborns' chanting turn to distant screaming. The red light of a stunning spell flashed in the corner of his vision, and he blinked, shaking his head. 

Next thing he knew, the bell was ringing, and his students were putting away their star charts and leaving for lunch. He startled, jumping out of his chair as they started to file out. Rachel was surrounded by a gaggle of girls, all whispering together and giggling as they walked away. 

“Tomorrow we’ll work on interpreting those charts!” He called. Evie was the only student left. 

“Are you okay, Professor?” She asked, hands clutching at the straps of her bag. “You were spaced out for a whole lesson.”

“I’m fine,” He said, a little curtly, and she turned red. 

“Man, I’m sorry, Evie,” He said, scrubbing a hand across his face. “This weekend has been…absolutely wild.”

“I hope Hannah’s alright.” She said softly. 

“She’s a survivor. She’ll be fine.” Ryan said. “She has to be.” 

At lunch, his path to the Great Hall was blocked by a familiar figure in black robes. 

“I think I’ve been…somewhat unfair,” Professor Borden said, eyes wandering over the wall to the right of Ryan’s head. “Hannah is my niece, and I care about her very deeply.”

“I get it,” Ryan said. “Have you…heard from her?”

“No,” She sighed. “She hasn’t exactly acted like an innocent person.”

“I don’t think she did it,” Ryan said immediately. 

Her eyes were starting to glisten. “I don’t know what to think.”

“We’re gonna sort this out,” Ryan said, and her eyes narrowed. 

“Who’s we?” 

“Um…me…just me…” Ryan said. 

“You need to keep Madej away from this,” Borden said in a low voice. “He’s bad news.”

And with that, she stalked away down the hallway.

“God – goddamnit,” Ryan muttered to himself, scratching at the back of his neck. 

Once his classes had finished, he pulled out the NEWT syllabus and got to work. He was there for so long that it had gotten dark by the time he heard a knock on the door, and he startled a little in his sleep. 

Shane poked his head round the door. 

“You okay? You weren’t at dinner.” 

“I’m good, I’m fine,” Ryan said, spinning round in his seat. “I’m getting NEWT students.”

“Oh shit,” Shane said, coming in and shutting the door behind him. “I brought you some food.” 

He held up a plate with a bacon and egg sandwich on it. Ryan realised his stomach was gurgling.

“Thanks man,” He said, grabbing the plate and digging into the sandwich. 

“NEWT. That’s wild.” Shane said, sitting down on the sofa in front of the fire. “What do you even learn for NEWT Divination?” 

“It’s only two students.” Ryan said. “We do all the methods from OWL in more depth and we add tarot and the I Ching.”

“I Ching?” 

“Li’l Chinese sticks. They tell the future.” 

“Whack,” Shane said. 

“How was your day?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, pretty boring. Had to send a student to the hospital wing after an encounter with a grindylow. Not a big deal though.” 

“Yikes,” Ryan said. 

“A lot of Defence Against the Dark Arts is stopping stupid teenagers from just shoving their hands in a tank with a dark creature.”

“I have to stop stupid teenagers from pouring boiling water on one another.” Ryan said, finishing the sandwich and pulling his lesson plan back to him. “God, I have to catch them up on a whole semester’s worth of material.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Shane said. “Where do you keep the kettle?” 

Ryan pointed it out without looking it up, focused on his work, and next thing he knew, Shane was placing a cup of tea next to him. He leaned over and looked at the lesson plan. 

“Don’t forget some of it is supposed to be independent study.” He said. 

“Yeah, I guess. Don’t want them to be confused about…what they’re supposed to be studying,” Ryan muttered. “We did things differently in California.” 

“You’ll be fine, man,” Shane said, sitting back down again. “You’re a good teacher.” 

“Thanks,” Ryan said.


	22. No Wrong Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! im moving into exam season now so will be very busy, just wanted to give people a heads-up. I will say that ive written a decent chunk ahead in this, and am possibly even close to finishing - I'd estimate the final word count at about 75k, though do not hold me to that! thank you all so much for the kind comments and support, they really do make my day brighter xx

The two NEWT students arrived at his classroom the next morning after breakfast. They sat at two desks at the front of the room, but Ryan thought that looked a little odd, so he drew up two of the chairs from beside the fireplace. 

“Right, so, we’re going to be spending quite a lot of time together,” He said. “Why don’t you guys tell me something about yourself?” 

“Um, I’m Veronica, Ronnie, and I…play Quidditch for my house.” The red-headed girl said, awkwardly twisting a strand of hair around her finger. 

“I’m Theo Lestrange,” The boy said; he was tall and narrow-shouldered, with brown skin and curly chestnut hair. His tie was black and yellow. He didn’t offer any information about himself. 

“I’m Ryan – Professor Bergara, and I like horror films.” 

“What’s a film?” Theo asked. 

“It’s a…long moving picture with lots of characters that tells a story. Muggle stuff.” Ronnie said.

“Oh. Cool.” Theo said, shifting in his chair. 

“Okay, so, obviously you’ve heard a little bit about my class, or you wouldn’t want to be here, but I’m going to start us off with some meditation.” Ryan said. “Close your eyes and let your mind go still.”

He opened the window and stood in front of it, letting the chill February breeze wash over him whilst the two teens meditated. 

“Do you see what I mean about listening to yourself? Don’t be afraid to tell me if something doesn’t make sense,” He said. 

“No, it’s good.” Ronnie said. Theo pursed his lips a little, but stayed silent. 

“Right. We have a lot to get through, so if you guys could practice that in your own time, that would be good.” Ryan said. “I can give you additional reading material on it or put on extra practice sessions if you want. But for now, we’re going to get started on tarot.”

He brought out the new cards he had ordered for this session by express owl. His own cards were far too personal to show to students. 

“Part of the beauty of tarot cards are their versatility.” He told them, as he shuffled the cards. “You can take a card as a one-off, or set them out for a longer session. You can even use multiple packs. Theo, focus your intent using the method I just showed you, and then draw three cards, laying them out in front of you.”

Theo drew the Tower, upright, the Ten of Cups, reversed, and the Four of Wands, also reversed. 

“What do they mean?” Ronnie asked, a little breathlessly. 

“Theo, what were you thinking about when you drew the cards?” Ryan asked. 

“I wasn’t thinking about anything, like you told me to.” Theo said. Ryan waited, and the boy sighed. “I was thinking about…a fight I had with my father over the Christmas holidays.”

“Right, so, with that in mind, Ronnie, what do you think the cards mean?” 

She blinked. 

“There are no wrong answers.” Ryan reminded her. “Let your mind go still and listen to the deeper parts of yourself.” 

Ronnie stared at the cards for a long time, Theo fidgeting awkwardly. Eventually, she reached out and poked one of the cards with a finger. 

“Your father cares about you very deeply.” She said. “But you’re both proud. Somebody will have to give. And the secret that caused the fight…it can’t stay hidden forever.”

Theo lurched to his feet, practically knocking the chair over, and Ronnie startled. The two stared at each other.

“Did I…get it right, Professor?” She asked, without breaking eye contact with Theo. 

“There are no wrong answers.” Ryan said again. Theo slowly sat back down, back stiff like an angry cat. 

When the bell rang, Ryan gestured to Theo to hang back. He did so, eyes wary. 

“Look, Theo, I’m not interested in anything that’s going on with you – unless it affects your grades – but you should know that this class will probably require a great deal of…introspection. If that’s not your jam, then you’re under no obligation to stay.” 

“Ronnie can’t be the only NEWT student.” Theo said stiffly.

“We’ll sort Ronnie out, if that’s your worry.” Ryan said. “Just wanted to let you know.” 

Theo nodded, and left the room. 

On the Thursday night, Shane's tawny eagle owl appeared at his window clutching a scrap of parchment. 

_Meet me in Great Hall tomorrow morning. Dress like a Muggle - SM._

Ryan crumpled the parchment in his hand, staring into the fire with his stomach roiling. He was probably too nervous to sleep. He pulled the cards from their box on the mantle piece and laid them out carefully, reverently. He hadn't done anything wrong. They couldn't punish him for anything. 

Shane was waiting for him in the Great Hall just like he'd promised, as Ryan stumbled down the stairs. He was wearing a dark blue denim jacket over a button-down shirt and khaki pants. A light dusting of stubble had sprung up on his jaw. Ryan stopped, aware that he was staring at him in bewilderment, but he couldn't seem to stop. Once again, he was baffled by the vibes that he got from Shane, and the more he learned about him, the more confused he got. 

Shane gave him a little wave, and then an awkward look when Ryan didn't move, and that motivated him to finally approach. 

"Morning," he said. "We’ll apparate from the village to Finchampstead and then get the train into the city from there.” 

“Why Finchampstead?”

“There’s a train going from there at the right time.”

“Why don’t we just apparate straight to London?”

“Less hassle to just get the train.”

They walked down the hill to the village in silence and the chill morning air, Ryan shivering and pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands. Shane watched him do it with unfathomable eyes.   
When they reached the bottom of the hill, on the other side of the wrought iron gates and the stone boars, Shane grabbed Ryan by the hand and turned on the spot, moving through the empty space and dragging Ryan coughing and spluttering onto a cobbled street. 

“I could have done that myself,” He said. 

“You don’t know where Finchampstead is,” Shane shrugged. 

“I-” Ryan started, and Shane raised his hands defensively.

“You’re right, I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

The train was waiting when they arrived, and they found an empty compartment almost immediately. 

"We should reach London at nine." Shane said. "What time did they give you in the letter?" 

"Uh, eleven," Ryan said, trying to pretend like he hadn't been reading it obsessively all week. The parchment had gotten so worn it was starting to tear in two. 

"We'll have a little time to kill," Shane said. "Do you, uh, know how to use the tube?" 

"The tube?" Ryan asked, bewildered. 

"The subway. You know, the underground trains in London." 

"Oh, the Tube. I thought you meant some kind of wizard thing." 

"Can you really think of a wizard thing that you would know how to use when I didn't?" Shane said dryly, and Ryan gave him the finger. 

The train ride was quiet, with Shane pulling some papers from his bag and marking them whilst Ryan watched the English countryside speed past. Gentle hills and fields gave way to small Muggle gatherings, then larger houses, then the suburbs. 

"What are you looking at?" He asked Shane. 

"Assignment on counter-curses for my sixth years," He said absent-mindedly, scribbling an A on the top of one paper. Ryan realised that he was using a ballpoint pen but decided not to mention it. 

"How have the NEWT classes gone?" Shane asked, putting the parchment away and leaning back in his seat. 

"Uh, good," Ryan said, scratching at the back of his neck. "They're keen. Little awkward, just the three of us." 

"I'm sure you're great," Shane said, corner of his mouth quirking upwards. Ryan forgot that he was nervous at all, the feeling replaced with something quite different, and he shook his head like he was trying to dislodge water from it. The train rumbled on in the weak morning light.


	23. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this week's is kinda short, i promise next week's chapter is Juicy As Fuck

The train rolled into King's Cross at precisely nine, and Ryan showed Shane the map of the Underground on the wall beyond the ticket barriers. Shane traced a route from King's Cross to Charing Cross, and Ryan bought two tickets at the machine nearby. 

The rattling noises and hot air blasting from the bottom of the staircases made Shane's eyes go wide, though he tried to hide it. Ryan had been on the Metro Rail in Los Angeles a couple of times, and the Underground from the airport when he’d first arrived in the city, but it was still a little strange, a little claustrophobic. 

The train was crowded, but Shane could reach the pole overhead with ease. When it jolted to a stop, Ryan overbalanced and knocked into his chest with a quiet oof. Smirking, Shane set him right with two hands on his shoulders, and Ryan flushed. 

They emerged from the Underground into the crisp winter air of London in February. Shane led him down a few side streets, around a square – Ryan was sure they had gone in a circle, but he didn’t like to say anything. 

Shane eventually stopped outside a dingy pub with a sign shaped like a cauldron. He stared up at the building overhead with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The No Majs around all hurried past without even looking in the old-fashioned windows of the pub, and Ryan guessed it had been spelled. 

Shane pushed open the door, which made a rasping kind of tinkle, and Ryan followed him through the bar – empty at ten on a Friday morning – to a back door. There wasn’t anything behind it except some bins and a brick wall. 

Shane cleared his throat and tapped a brick in the middle, and the whole thing dissolved to reveal a narrow cobble-stoned street with old fashioned terraced buildings on either side; wizards bustled up and down it, carrying brand new cauldrons, or plants with fangs, or cages with birds of prey in. 

"Diagon Alley," Shane said, graciously ignoring the way Ryan was staring with his mouth open. 

"Fuck me," Ryan breathed, and Shane snorted. 

"We have...half an hour," Shane said, checking the watch on his wrist (heavy silver, incongruous compared to the modern outfit). Ryan already had his nose pressed up against the nearest window, staring wide-eyed at the display of shrunken heads inside. Shane dragged him away and they wandered down the street, occasionally grabbing Ryan when he lingered too long in front of a shop.

The narrow street eventually opened out onto a wider square in front of a tall, white-columned building with Gringotts in high gold letters above the heavily carved doors. Opposite was possibly the oldest building Ryan had seen yet, with "Ollivanders: Wands Since 382 BC" on a small sign next to the door. Inside, Ryan could see a dark-haired man examining a wand with slim expert fingers, then handing it back to its owner. 

"I remember getting my wand," Shane said, dreamily. "When the old guy was still there. He was kidnapped by Death Eaters in '97, hasn't been the same since." 

Ryan blinked and said nothing. 

Beyond Ollivanders was a more modern store with Garbo and Dogeared, Rare Tomes on the front. Ryan went inside and began thumbing through a book on stargazing. Shane picked up a book on Transfiguration, reading the blurb idly and then handing over a couple of sickles to the clerk and slipping it into his bag. Ryan looked at the price tag on the book in his hands and then put it down again; Shane watched him do so with narrowed eyes. 

"We'd better get a move on," Shane said. They left the store and Shane led him away from Gringotts and then down a side alleyway. 

A short and stocky man with dark hair and red robes materialised as if from nowhere. Ryan recognised him. 

"Travers," He said before he could stop him, and Shane's eyes snapped to his in surprise. 

"Shane Madej," Travers said, ignoring Ryan. 

"Derek," Shane said stiffly. 

"What brings you to London?" Travers’ tone was light, but there was a cruelty etched in the furrow of his brow. 

"Helping out a friend." Shane said. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and Ryan knew he had a grip on his wand. He glanced up at Travers, who had his wand in a slack and easy grip. 

"Come to beg for your job back?" 

"I've come to say hi to your mom," Shane said, mouth thinning. "I miss her dreadfully." 

"What a quick wit you have," Travers said. 

"Let any murderers escape lately?" Shane asked and Travers' face immediately turned stormy. 

"I hear there's been something of a ruckus up at the castle," He said in a gravelly tone. "If it weren't for your damned friends the department would have had you already, you filthy snake. When's the next teenage girl going to die on your watch?" 

Shane snarled, but Ryan was quicker than him, stepping past him and socking Travers on the jaw without even drawing his wand. He stumbled backwards, colliding with the brick wall. 

"Don't talk to him like that." Ryan said curtly, shaking his hand out. 

Shane grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and dragged him backwards as Travers struggled to one knee and brought his wand up; Shane had his own out and pointing at his throat before he could say anything. 

“Move and I’ll curse you.” Shane said. 

"I could take you," Travers spat. "You've grown soft, teaching kids to cast Shield charms." 

"Do you really want to try it?" Shane asked softly. Travers stared at him for a while, lip curled, before clambering fully to his feet and shoving past them, down the alleyway out of sight. 

"What the actual fuck were you thinking?" Shane said. He did not put his wand away. 

"I, uh, wasn't really," Ryan said, adrenaline fading from his system fast. "Just saw red." 

"You punched an Auror," Shane said, a little faintly. 

"Did you see the look on his face?" Ryan asked, and when he caught Shane's eye the two collapsed into giggles. 

"This is a great way to kick off an interview with law enforcement," Shane muttered, and Ryan immediately went cold. Shane must have noticed. 

"You'll be fine, Ryan. I've got your back."


	24. They Shall Not Grow Old

Shane took him to the end of the alleyway and out into another square with an ornate archway over a staircase leading down into the ground. The archway had a large and elegant M engraved at its apex. A sign propped up by the staircase read _"Ministry of Magic - Diagon Alley Entrance"_. As Ryan watched the letters rearranged themselves to read _"Visitors please report to reception"._

"Here we go," Shane said, making his way down the steps. At the bottom, a corridor led to a fantastically high-ceiling atrium, paved with white marble. On all sides, witches and wizards were materialising and dematerialising, wearing robes in red and green and royal purple. Ryan stared, absolutely dumbfounded. 

"Come on," Shane jerked his head towards the centre of the hall, where a large statue presided over the ministry officials hurrying past. The statue depicted a group of young witches and wizards with their robes swirling around them, wands raised in defiance against an unseen enemy. As Ryan got closer, he saw their faces were free of fear but set in grim determination. They were cast in pale bronze, a somber contrast to the shining white marble of the floor. The entire array was immaculately clean. 

A plaque at the base of the statue, which was fully twice Shane's height, read _"They Shall Not Grow Old. This statue has been erected in memory of those who lost their lives fighting in the Second Wizarding War."_

All around the base were names, carved into the bronze. Shane had stopped, and was staring at them, face unreadable. Ryan shook his head and approached the table that had a handwritten sign on it reading RECEPTION in block letters. 

A young man was sat with his feet up on the table, reading a book titled _Gecko-Keeping for Beginners_. 

"Hand your wand over," the boy said without looking up from the book. 

"What for?" Ryan asked. 

"Gotta register it." He said. Ryan handed it over, and the boy placed it on a pair of scales whilst he scanned it with something that looked like massive yellow tweezers. It made a quiet chiming, the boy wrote something down in a big book, and then he handed the wand back along with a badge reading VISITOR. 

"Floor 2, Auror Office. Someone will pick you up from the waiting room." He said. 

"Doesn't he need to register his wand?" Ryan said, gesturing over his shoulder, and the youth's eyes widened as he caught sight of Shane. 

"Uh…no, no he doesn't." The boy stammered. Shane gave him a wink and walked past him to the elevators on the far side of the statue. Ryan followed, rolling his eyes. 

The elevator went as soon they got in, with a gentle female voice declaring "Floor 2: Magical Law Enforcement, including the Auror Department and the Muggle Control Squad." 

"Muggle...control?" Ryan asked, turning quizzically to Shane. 

"Every year the activists run a campaign to change it, but the bloke in charge is a real piece of work." Shane shrugged. 

The elevator dinged again, as if in polite reminder, and they stepped out into a non-descript wood-panelled corridor. Shane grabbed him by the elbow and took him to the left, where there were some rickety chairs gathered around a coffee table with old copies of the Daily Prophet strewn across it. 

They sat in silence for a while, until a young man with bright blue hair bustled up wearing robes that were dark red with yellow stripes on the ends of the sleeves. 

"Ryan Bergara? Please come with me," He said. Shane got to his feet, and the young man gaped. 

"What are you doing here?" He blurted, before paling as he realised how rude he'd sounded. 

"I'm Ryan's emotional support." Shane said cheerfully, following the two of them through a door into a room bustling with witches and wizards in red robes, moving between cubicles like you'd see in any office. Most of the wizards, upon seeing Shane, stopped and stared. 

Ryan got a terrible vibe from the room; he felt visions of people shouting and alarm bells ringing nudging at the edge of his mind. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, and Shane looked down at him with a furrowed brow. 

They went down a long hallway and into a small windowless room with a table and chairs. The corners were full of cobwebs. Shane pulled out one of the chairs and flopped into it, stretching his legs out casually. The young man vanished, and Ryan stood awkwardly in the middle of the room until he returned with an older man wearing similar dark red robes. 

"Hello, Ryan!" He said jovially, shaking his hand with surprising enthusiasm. "Welcome to the Auror Department, take a seat, take a seat, I'm Auror Detective Cribbage Brown, this is Auror in Training Theodore Lupin." The young man waved, pushing his blue hair out of his eyes. Brown noticed Shane, and a scowl flitted briefly across his face. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked abruptly. "This is a private interview. Aurors only." 

"Can't he stay?" Ryan asked, a little panicked. 

"I'm afraid not, Ryan, confidential." Brown gave Lupin a little shove in the back. "Lupin, take Professor Madej and get him a cup of tea or something." Shane grabbed Ryan by the upper arm as he went past, giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

"If it takes longer than half an hour, I'm coming back," He said, very pleasantly. Then Lupin had dragged him away and Ryan was left alone. 

"Come on, Ryan, take a seat," Brown said cheerfully, gesturing to the table. He was a non-descript sort of man, with mousy hair and crow’s feet around his eyes. Ryan couldn’t get a read on him, but not in the same way he struggled to read Shane; whilst Shane was a weird mix of conflicting signals, Brown was a nothingness, a wall made of blank smile. "Can I get you a cup of tea, or anything?" 

"No thanks." Ryan said, warily sitting at the table opposite Brown. Brown produced an instrument that vaguely resembled a small version of the horn part of a gramophone and placed it on the table, tapping it with his wand. 

"Interview with Professor Ryan Steven Bergara, beginning 2.07pm on the 15th of February." He cleared his throat, still smiling warmly at Ryan. "So, Professor, where were you born?" 

Ryan stared for a minute, taken aback. "Uh, California."

"In the United States?" 

"Yeah," Ryan said, brow furrowing. 

"And your parents?" 

"What about them?" 

"Were either of them wizards?" 

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ryan asked, unfortunately sharp. 

"Just a bit of background, my dear boy," Brown chuckled. The sound grated on Ryan's nerves. "Please answer the question." 

"They were both No Majs." 

"And to be clear, you're using the American term for a Muggle?" 

"Yes," Ryan said, struggling to hide his irritation. 

"When did you start work as a teacher at Hogwarts?" 

"September." 

"And how would you describe your relationship with Hannah Greengrass?" 

"She was in my class." 

"You never spoke to her outside of the classroom?" 

"Not intentionally," Ryan said. 

"How does one speak to someone unintentionally?" Brown’s face was pleasantly impassive. 

"I mean," Ryan said, "that I never sought her out beyond class time." 

"So how would you describe your encounter with her on the night of the 21st of December?" Ryan told Brown what had happened in curt terms, exactly as he had told Marchbank and Impicciche previously: he had found Steven Shepherd unconscious, encountered Hannah in the hallway, briefly duelled her, taken her to Professor McGonagall. 

"And how would you describe your relationship with Shane Madej?" 

Ryan barked a laugh, startled by the question. "What does he have to do with anything?" 

Brown shrugged, incredibly casual. "He's been first on the scene at two crimes. Anyone in...his position would be a person of interest." 

"Shane is a colleague." 

"A colleague who accompanied you all the way to London." 

"He offered, I didn't see any point in turning him down." 

"Mr Bergara, are you aware of Hannah's connection with Darius Greengrass?" 

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "I think I am."

"She is his daughter." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"You're aware of his...extremist leanings?" 

"No?" 

"Greengrass was a Death Eater.”

"Okay," Ryan said, wary. 

"So, what is your connection with the American group known as the Mudblood Liberation Front?" 

"What?!" Ryan spluttered. "I - none! They're terrorists!" 

"So you've never been involved in anti-wizard campaigning?" 

"They're not anti-wizard-" Ryan stopped himself, aware he was about to shove his foot very deep in his mouth. "No!" 

"So there is no reason for me to believe you might have framed Greengrass for these crimes as revenge against the activities of her father? No reason for me to believe that Shane Madej is involved?" 

Ryan stared at him, open-mouthed. Brown's jovial smile had vanished, leaving a cold expression with a cruelty lingering in the wrinkles around his mouth.

"No. That's all...entirely baseless." Ryan said eventually, almost whispered. His throat was very dry. 

“Baseless? I think your arrest record would disagree, Mr Bergara-”

There was a scuffling outside the door, and Ryan heard Shane's voice growing louder. 

"...my way, Teddy Lupin, I know you only got this job because of your godfather, don't pretend like you can tell me what to do-" Brown stood up and opened the door, revealing Shane looming over the poor trainee Auror, whose mouth was slack with shock. 

"Oh, hey Ryan," Shane said, standing up straight again and waving at him. 

"I'm going," Ryan mumbled. "My testimony is over. If you want me back here, you'll have to arrest me." 

"See ya, Cribbage," Shane said. "I look forward to your next letter. I use them to start fires."

Brown scowled and opened his mouth to retort, but Ryan had grabbed Shane and dragged him away down the corridor and through the offices, back towards the elevator. 

"Ryan, what's wrong? You've gone all white," Shane said. "What did Brown say to you?" 

Ryan stammered, unable to even describe what had happened in the interview room. The elevator arrived with a ding, and the two stepped inside. 

"He - he thought you attacked those kids, and that I was some kind of Muggleborn extremist," Ryan finally choked out. Shane's face darkened, and he reached for the elevator button. 

"I'm gonna kill him," he said, but Ryan grabbed his arm. 

"Don't, he'll come up with some sort of excuse to arrest us both." He said with numb lips. 

"I don't care," Shane said, an ugly look passing across his face. "I'm going to punch him right in his stupid smug face. That son of a bitch." 

"Please, Shane, I just want to get out of here." A gaggle of wizards in green robes piled into the elevator, and the two fell silent. Ryan could feel Shane twitching where he still had his hand on his shoulder and let go of him. 

“Muggleborn extremist,” Shane muttered to himself. “He’s making shit up.”

Ryan said nothing. 

They emerged onto the atrium and hurried for the exit, taking the one leading to a street nearer King's Cross Station. The last train back to Scotland was soon. The minute they stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, Ryan felt himself sag, all the adrenaline and fear drained from his body. Shane's jaw was still set rigidly, and he sat across from Ryan with his fists clenched on the table. As the train rolled away from the lights of the city and into the night, Ryan felt his eyes grow heavy. Next thing he knew, Shane was shaking him awake. 

"We're here," he said. The old-fashioned street lamps of Hogsmeade were visible through the fogged up window of the train. Ryan yawned, stretching in his seat and feeling his limbs crack. In the yellow light, Shane’s face was angled and peaky. He blinked, smiling awkwardly at Ryan. 

The walk back up to the castle was quiet and uneventful. Ryan’s head was reeling with everything that had happened in one day, almost too much to comprehend. They stopped in the entrance hall, Shane turning to face him.

“Got you something.” Shane said, shoving the book about stargazing into Ryan’s hands. 

“Wait – I – I can’t accept this.” Ryan stammered, almost dropping the book. 

“Well, I’ve bought it now, and I’m not going to read it,” Shane shrugged. “Just take it.”

Ryan gaped for a moment, looking down at the book and then back to Shane. 

“Yeah, okay. Fine.” Ryan said. “Thanks.”

“Today was kind of a shitshow,” Shane said, quietly. “But it was cool seeing you lose your mind at all the wizard stuff.”

Ryan stared, feeling a shy smile break across his face almost against his will. Shane’s eyes crinkled imperceptibly at the sight.

“Goodnight, Ryan.” He said, before making his way up the stairs without looking back. Ryan turned back to the doorway, stepping out into the cold night air and looking over the grounds. The moon was almost full, casting a brightness over the forest. The lights of Hogsmeade were flickering in the distance. He inhaled, feeling the cold fill his lungs and soothe his roiling stomach. It had been a long day.

As he watched, the Whomping Willow shivered as if someone had walked by it. He was probably imagining it. He slipped back inside and went up to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you tell ive just done policing cultures in my criminology class? i think i could write a whole fic about how the Aurors are probably Fucked Up, smash that like button if you agree


	25. Below the Willow

The next morning, Shane was wearing his typical waistcoat, with a gold watch-chain peeking from under his robes, and Ryan wondered if he’d imagined the entire thing. The way Shane smiled at him seemed softer, though, and Ryan smiled back. 

Theo continued to come to the NEWT classes, though anyone divining personal information about him put a sour look on his face. Ryan tried to keep their reading lists to less than half a foot of parchment, because the looks on their faces when he handed them over made his stomach hurt, but there was a lot to get through. Both students bought their own packs of tarot cards, and Ryan taught them different ways to shuffle them.

“How you shuffle them doesn’t matter – it’s about intent – but you can impress a client, and handling the cards a lot makes them more responsive to your needs.”

“Professor…you talk about them like they’re alive,” Ronnie said. 

“It’s magic!” Ryan said, grinning widely. 

“Who would be impressed by a fancy shuffle?” Theo complained, fumbling the shuffle and spilling the cards onto the floor. 

“You’d be surprised. I did readings for a lot of people, Maj and No Maj, when I worked in the states, and looking like you know what you’re doing makes them more relaxed, more open-minded.” Ryan said. 

It was on a trip to the library that evening to find a book for the NEWT two that he saw it; from one of the south-facing third floor windows, a flash of green at the bottom of the hill below the Whomping Willow, the stretch of soft grass between the lake and the gamekeepers hut. Ryan stared, book in his hands forgotten. He had just caught it out of the corner of his eye, and the slope of the hill was just so that he might have imagined it. 

There it was again: a flash of red light, unmistakable in its reality. 

He dropped his book and hurried out the library, getting a strange look from Kristin, and towards the stair case. The doors in the grand entryway had been propped open with a brick; he slipped through into the cool night air. 

The nights in the hills had begun to draw ever longer, and the sky to the west was still lit up pastel blue, darkening to black in an arc overhead. He hurried through the gloom, carefully skirting round the Whomping Willow, and tumbled down the hill behind it. Dusting himself off, he looked around. The field appeared to be deserted. The twilight was deadly still. He had made too much noise falling down the hill; doubtless, if there was any kind of interloper, they had hidden themselves. 

The night was so, so quiet. 

There was a cracking of twigs, and he turned to see a figure half-limping, half-crawling away from him across the grass. As she twisted, her face caught the moonlight, and he recognised her. 

"Hannah?!" He demanded, running after her and grabbing her by the back of the collar. She gulped and hiccuped, twisting in his grip trying to get free. 

"What are you doing here?" She fell to the ground, almost taking Ryan with her, and began to quietly sob.

"Please, my leg, it hurts-" The leg in question was straight, but as she tried to move away Ryan saw a wide gash opened up above her knee, gently weeping blood in tracks through the dirt caked on her skin. 

"Hannah, you have to come back to the castle-" Ryan started to say, and her eyes snapped open. 

"No! I can't, they'll send me to Azkaban," She said. She was wearing her school robes, but they were filthy and torn; her shirt was practically black with dirt. 

"I'll keep you safe, kid, come on, please." 

"I can't, I can't," She insisted. She was shivering violently. 

"Well," Ryan hesitated, stowing his wand away in his robes. "Let me get your aunt." 

"No! No," She cried, trying to struggle to her feet and failing. "Get - get Professor Madej," 

"You need to come up to the castle with me," Ryan said. "They'll fix your leg." 

"Please don't make me," She said, eyes filled with tears. "Please." 

"Right. Right." Ryan said, scratching at his head. The light was fading quickly, Hannah's gleaming hair the only thing truly visible in the dark. "You have to stay here, though." 

"Do I look like I'm going anywhere?" She said bitterly, gesturing to her leg, which was still bleeding. 

"Jeez, I'm still a teacher," He said. "Stay. Here." 

He ran back to the castle and up the stairs to the third floor, flinging open the door to Shane's classroom. 

"Don't tell me you've seen another ghost," Shane grumbled, robes slung over the back of his chair and his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow. He was wearing the black framed glasses, an oddly modern touch in contrast to the wizard ensemble. 

"Hannah Greengrass. In the grounds. Badly hurt." Ryan panted. The teasing expression on Shane's face was wiped off instantly, and he took his glasses off, grabbed his robes before following Ryan back through the corridors and down the stairs, out into the grounds. 

"What were you doing out here?" Shane said. 

"I saw flashes of light," Ryan said. 

"And you just ran out to see what was going on by yourself?" Shane said. "Jesus, Ryan," 

"I'm fine," Ryan said curtly. "What was Hannah doing?" 

"She was just...there. Her leg was broken." Ryan said. Shane's face hardened, and he quickened his pace, Ryan struggling to keep up without jogging. 

When they returned to the bottom of the hill, Hannah was gone. "She was right here," Ryan said, bewildered. "Her leg was fucked up. She could not have moved." 

"Are you-" Shane began. 

"If you ask me if I'm sure I saw her, I'm going to punch you in the throat," Ryan said. Shane raised his hands defensively. 

"Are you sure it was here?" 

"Yeah, man, it was below the Willow," Ryan looked around, amazed. The light had faded almost entirely; the half-moon cast a weak glow over the grounds. 

" _Homenum revelio!_ " Shane muttered, and Ryan felt something swoop overhead, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. "Nothing." 

"What - what the fuck is going on?" Ryan said. 

"Man, everything was fine last year." Shane said, running a hand through his hair and making it stand on end. "You brought trouble." 

Ryan was sure that Shane was joking, but something about the phrase was like a flick on the ear. Shane must have realised Ryan had taken it the wrong way. 

"I didn't mean that," He said quietly, words carrying in the still air. "You're not trouble." 

"It's fine, dude." Ryan said. "I guess...we should tell McGonagall." 

The two trudged back up to the castle, vaguely miserable. Ryan turned back to look out once more before they went inside. The moonlight reflecting off the lake was dazzling: as he watched, it rippled, as if the squid was lurking just underneath the water. The night was perfectly quiet. 

"Everything alright?" Shane asked. 

"As alright as it can be," Ryan answered. 

They arrived at the Headmistress’ office and Shane rapped smartly on the door, McGonagall answering with a wary expression. Ryan explained to her what he’d seen, her face getting paler and tighter with every word. 

“I’ll alert the Auror’s office immediately.” She said, running a shaking hand across her forehead. “You two had better go.”

Ryan trudged back to his classroom, Shane bidding him goodnight outside the Defence classroom. The events of the night were far from over, however.


	26. The Same Curse

Ryan was awoken late at night by a knocking at his door. For a moment he blinked, the weak moonlight slanting through his curtains creating an odd gloom. 

He had been dreaming of Hannah Greengrass, cold and alone somewhere dark that smelled like earth and mould. The knocking came again, and he rolled out of bed, pulling on a jumper and sweatpants. It was coming from behind the door to the classroom. He pulled it open, carefully, and Lara Borden practically fell into the room. 

"Jesus Christ," He exclaimed, jumping backwards. She leaned against the wall, panting heavily, and raised her head. One of her eyes was bruised bright purple. "What the hell?!" 

"I was - attacked," She said between laboured breaths. "Didn't know where else to go," She collapsed forward again, Ryan catching her and staggering backwards under the weight. He half-carried her inside, depositing her on the couch in front of the fire, which he lit with a flick of his wand. 

"What happened?" He asked. 

"I was on my way back to my room after getting a book from the library, and someone ambushed me," She wheezed. "Stunned me hard. When I came to, I came up here." 

"What, nine floors?" 

"I didn't know where else to go," she said again. 

"Jesus Christ," Ryan muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'm going to go get Devin." Lara nodded, her face growing slack. 

"Wake up." He said sharply. "You shouldn't go to sleep." 

"I'll be fine," She mumbled. He threw himself down the trapdoor and practically ran to the hospital wing, pounding on the door to Devin's room. She answered wearing a pink dressing gown, with eyes squinting warily at him. 

"Ryan? It's 3am." 

"Lara says she's been attacked." Ryan said. "She's in my room." 

Devin grew instantly alert, following him back through the castle to his classroom. Lara was asleep on the sofa, and she shook her shoulder roughly. 

"Lara! Lara, can you hear me?" 

"Yeah," Lara mumbled. "So tired." 

" _Enervate,_ " Devin said, twirling her wand in her long fingers, and Lara grew more alert. 

"Devin," She said, grabbing her by the elbow. "I was stunned for three hours. They might still be in the castle." 

"Ryan, I'll stay here and make sure she's alright. You fetch Minerva." Devin said, rolling up the sleeves of her dressing gown. Ryan hurried to the headmistress' office, blinking his tired eyes against the gloom in the corridors. A cloud had moved over the moon, making everything pitch black. 

"Lumos," He muttered, and his wand sputtered reluctantly to life. McGonagall was still awake - her eyes widened when he recounted the tale, and she hustled the both of them to Shane's room. 

"Tell Devin that Shane and I will search the castle." McGonagall said. Ryan caught a glimpse of Shane answering his door, wearing his PJs, and heard his exclamation of surprise as McGonagall told him what was happening, but he quickly moved out of earshot. When he reached the Divination tower for the third time that night, Devin was sitting next to a sleeping Lara Borden. 

"Did she tell you anything about the attacker?" Ryan said. "McGonagall and Madej are searching the castle." 

"Have you and Shane made up?" Devin asked, perking up a little. 

"Made up for what? This isn't the time," Ryan said, and she pouted. 

"Lara said she doesn't remember, which would make sense if she'd been stunned. Not sure how she would have gotten the black eye, unless the attacker punched her after she'd been stunned." 

"Is it the same person that's been attacking students?" Ryan wondered. 

"Not the same curse." Devin mused. "But how could we possibly have two different attackers running round Hogwarts?" 

"What the actual fuck is happening?" Ryan sighed, collapsing on the armchair opposite Devin. "What is going on?" 

"I don't know," Devin said, wrapping her arms round herself and staring into the fire. "I don't know." 

Ryan awoke the next day when Professor McGonagall came bustling into the classroom, still wearing the same robes as the night before. Shane was behind her, looking considerably less alert. Ryan struggled to his feet, wincing as his neck cracked and squinting in the weak sunlight beaming through the windows. 

"We found no-one out of the ordinary." McGonagall said brusquely. "What has Professor Borden told you?" 

"Not much of anything," Ryan said, rubbing at his eyes. Devin uncurled herself from where she had been asleep next to him, stretching with a pained expression on her face. 

"She doesn't remember who attacked her. She's not sure she saw their face at all. If it was an ambush, they might have been behind her." 

McGonagall shook Lara's shoulder, and the woman stirred, clutching at her head. "Merlin, I feel like I've been struck with a hammer," she croaked. 

"Lara, you need to tell me what happened," McGonagall said. 

"Are you okay?" Shane muttered over Ryan's shoulder, and he jumped. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," He said. "Could have done with some more sleep, you know." 

"Same," Shane said. His face was sallow and a little drawn, and he badly needed a shave. "Covered the whole castle, and the grounds as far as Hagrid's. Daphne is going to search the rest of the grounds. Professor Sinistra was awake, with her telescope, but she didn't see anything." 

Ryan sighed. His neck was killing him. 

"Think I'm going to cancel my classes today." Shane said. 

"Sounds like a good idea," Ryan said. He still had to take the NEWT students, though: there was no way he could risk them falling behind. 

With help from McGonagall and Devin – she balked when Shane tried to come near her – Lara was taken downstairs to her own room, and Ryan was left alone in his classroom as the dawn rays broke through the windows. There were two hours left before breakfast. 

He went to his bed immediately, falling face-down without even taking his clothes off. He was woken by the sound of students coming into the classroom next door, and he hurried to fix his hair in the mirror over the sink. He hadn’t meant to sleep for so long; he hadn’t been given a chance to tell his students that he wouldn’t be teaching that day. 

He taught that class in his sweatpants, and he liked to think he made it work. 

When the students cleared out, he turned to the door to see Devin waiting for him, wearing her dark blue healer’s robes with deep purple bags under her eyes. 

“So for real, have you and Shane made up?” She asked before Ryan could greet her, and he scowled. 

“Who said we were fighting?” Ryan said. 

“You’re always fighting,” Devin said, gesturing dismissively. “Kristin said she heard you two yelling at each other in a classroom on the 12th floor below.”

“Oh, that,” Ryan muttered. “Yeah. We made up.”

“Good.” Devin said, eyes gleaming despite the tired lines of her face. 

“How’s Lara?” Ryan asked pointedly.

“She’s fine,” Devin said. “It’s easy to fix a stunning, just the energising spell and some orange juice.” 

“Any more leads on who stunned her?”

“Nope,” Devin said, popping the P. “She didn’t see them. I gotta go, I just came up here to mine you for gossip on Shane. Nothing exciting happens around here.”

“Nothing exciting – four people have been attacked!” Ryan said, but Devin had gone. 

Ryan went back over to the table, pulling out his lesson plan for the fourth years coming later, and then froze. 

“How did she get the black eye?” He asked the empty classroom.

“Who?” Sara Rubin said, a little startled. “Am I supposed to know who you’re talking about?”


	27. Auror Stuff

McGonagall had reinstated the curfew after Hannah had escaped, and now that someone else had been attacked she tightened the security measures. Students had to be escorted between classes and back to their dormitories, and the doors were locked at night. Ryan saw Lara Borden leading Gryffindors around with a yellowing eye, and avoided her pointed gaze. 

On the Thursday morning, taking a group of second years between Potions and Charms, Shane grabbed Ryan by the sleeve and pulled him into an empty classroom.

“Do you want to get dinner tonight?” He asked, leaning casually on one of the desks.

“Uh…what have you done?” Ryan asked. 

“What?” Shane demanded, slipping off the desk and hurriedly righting himself. 

“You buy me dinner to apologise for stuff.” Ryan said. 

“Jeez,” Shane muttered. “Can’t a dude just want to hang out?” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to make you work for it,” Ryan said, grinning when Shane spluttered. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

Sure enough, Shane was waiting for him in the entrance hall that night, wearing a black crew neck jumper and jeans. Ryan had to stop himself from staring. Shane noticed, the corner of his mouth quirking smugly. 

“Ready to go?” He asked, shrugging on his jacket. 

“Uh…yeah,” Ryan said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. He felt overdressed. 

“So how’s your week going?” Shane asked. 

“Fine…” Ryan said. “Forgot to cancel class on Monday, taught in sweatpants. Kristin heard us fighting about the boggart.”

“Yikes,” Shane said. “I got rid of it, by the way. In case you like, need to use that classroom.” 

It was a surprisingly temperate night, Ryan rolling up the sleeves of his robes as they wandered down towards Hogsmeade. The path through the forest was quiet, still, without a breath of wind; the moonlight reflected off Shane’s dark eyes. 

“Your, uh…your jumper looks nice,” Ryan said, staring at the dirt road. 

“Thanks,” Shane said, proudly dusting the shoulders off. “Good to get a little Muggle now and then.”

“You need to leave that little Muggle alone,” Ryan said, deadpan, and Shane burst into surprised laughter. 

Ryan pulled his hands out of his pockets, revealing the gloves Shane had bought him, and Shane’s eyes snapped to them immediately. He said nothing, but Ryan wondered if there wasn’t a little more spring in his step. Ryan’s hands were sweating, but he was strangely loathe to take the gloves off. 

“Look at the stars,” Ryan said, tilting his head back and staring at the clear night sky.

“What portents do you see, oh wise one?” Shane asked, and Ryan rolled his eyes. 

“You are in grave danger,” He said in a spooky voice, wiggling his fingers, and Shane snorted. 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

The two sat down for dinner in the Three Broomsticks, at the tale by the diamond-paned window that was basically their spot now, surrounded by the locals from the village with a smattering of characters from the castle.

“What did you do in the States?” Shane asked, an abrupt change of subject from whether tea was better than coffee.

“What do you mean?”

“What was your job before you came to Hogwarts?” Shane picked up his knife and fork, looking down at his steak pie with studied concentration. 

“Oh…” Ryan said, poking at his spaghetti. “I worked in a tarot shop in Los Angeles. Mostly sold trash to No Majs. Read people’s cards from time to time. Was generally oppressed by my boss.”

“Madame Radkiel?” 

“Well-remembered,” Ryan said. “She was a nasty old woman. But she helped me out, I guess.”

“So that was it, you just worked in the shop?” Shane asked, wiping his mouth on his napkin. 

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan said. “What else would I have done?”

“Nothing,” Shane shrugged. “Just wondered.” 

“It’s my turn to ask questions,” Ryan said. “I wanna know about Auror stuff.” 

“Everyone wants to know about the Auror stuff,” Shane grumbled. “No-one ever wants to get to know the real Shane.”

“What – who’s the real Shane?” Ryan wheezed. 

“Ask me about my flower-arranging,” Shane said, and Ryan snorted into his food. 

“For real, man, what was…the strangest thing that’s ever happened to you on the job?” Ryan asked. 

Shane stared into his food for a moment, lips pursed. “Had to catch a magic streaker in Hyde Park once. Got pretty pissed off about that, we’re supposed to catch Dark wizards.” 

“How’d you get the case?”

“Eh, someone called us thinking it was dark magic when actually he just had his weiner out,” Shane shrugged. 

“Hey, do they serve anything apart from pies or pasta here? Is that a wizard thing?” Ryan asked. 

“We’re not massively into multiculturalism,” Shane said around a mouthful of his pie. 

“Next time we go to London, I get to show you Muggle stuff.” Ryan said. “We’ll get sushi.”

“Next time?” Shane asked, eyes crinkling. 

“Yeah. Next time.” 

Ryan looked around, realising that the bar was close to empty, and time had flown. Shane managed to manoeuvre him into letting him pay the bill, and Ryan gave up trying to stop him. The walk back to the castle was quiet and still, peaceful. His stomach was full of spaghetti. Things seemed pretty good. 

“Why do you care so much about why ghosts are real?” Shane asked, staring up at the clear starry sky. Ryan took a moment before answering. 

“It’s my heritage, I guess.” He said. “In Mexico, the dead and the living are only a stone’s throw apart. We celebrate the dead. The idea of the soul going on after death? Not new to me.”

“My heritage is blood supremacy,” Shane said, a little glumly. “Wish it was ghosts.” 

“Heritage is…relative.” Ryan said. “People can change. If they’re willing to.”

Shane didn’t look at him, still staring up at the starry sky. “You think people can change?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” 

Shane looked down at him, a wan smile on his face. “Alright.” 

They had reached the entrance hall. Before he could step inside, Ryan grabbed Shane by the sleeve and dragged him to one side. Shane followed without protest, a vague smirk dancing across his lips. When they were out of earshot of the door, Ryan stopped.

“I have another question,” He said earnestly.

“Go ahead,” Shane said. 

“Do you have any idea what might have happened to Lara?” 

Shane’s brow furrowed and his jaw tightened. “No.” 

“None at all?” Ryan said, incredulous.

“Why would I know any more than anyone else?” Shane asked, a little sharp. 

“Alright, man, I just thought I’d ask. I just want to know what’s going on.” 

Shane sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Yeah. Sorry for biting your head off. But uh, I really don’t know.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Ryan muttered. “She was stunned, not cursed.” 

“Maybe the attacker has someone else on their side,” Shane said. “Maybe Hannah went after her that night. The door was propped open.” 

“I thought you were on Hannah’s side,” Ryan said, angry, and Shane raised his hands defensively. 

“I am, Ryan. I am.” 

McGonagall was waiting for them with pursed lips, and she locked the doors behind them without saying anything. Shane made a face at Ryan behind her back, and Ryan had to stop himself from snorting.

He crashed facedown in his bed that night, barely remembering to take his shoes off, and he slept soundly though his dreams were haunted by echoes of a camera flash, a patrol wizard yelling in his ear. His brother on the other end of the phone. When he woke up the next morning, he caught a glimpse of the girl with only one hand, reaching out to him, before he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and she was gone. He sighed, wiping a hand across his face and shaking the asleep out of his brain before heading down to breakfast. 

That morning, he laid the tarot cards out in front of the NEWT students again and sat back expectantly. 

“This is unfair,” Theo grumbled. “I don’t feel anything. Ronnie must be making it up.”

“I am not!” Ronnie said indignantly. “Look, you just get a sense of what they mean. Look at the pictures.”

“The pictures have nothing to do with what the book says the cards mean.” Theo said. 

“That’s not true – look at the Nine of Cups.” Ronnie said, picking up the card and turning it over to reveal a man sitting in front of nine cups in a row. “Look at the smug expression on his face. Look at his big red hat. This card means success and satisfaction.” 

“Ronnie’s right,” Ryan said. “Here, how about the Knight of Swords?” He showed Theo the knight on horseback rushing into battle against a windswept sky. “What do you think this could mean?”

“Well…” Theo bit his lip. “He looks pretty determined. And the horse is going at full tilt. So I guess it means determination. And the reverse is like, recklessness.”

“Yeah!” Ryan said. “How about the Eight of Swords? I feel like this one is kinda obvious.”

He held up the picture of the blindfolded woman surrounded by swords. Theo turned pale, eyes fixed on a point somewhere over Ryan’s shoulder. 

“She’s trapped.” He said, voice hoarse. 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, putting the card away and narrowing his eyes at him. “Tomorrow is the last day we’ll spend on tarot. Then we’ll move on to crystal balls. Make sure you do the reading before we start.”  
Ronnie rushed out with her broom over her shoulder, red hair flying behind her. Theo hung back, packing his stuff wearily into his bag.

“Everything okay, Theo?” Ryan asked, and the boy paused. 

“I…can I tell you something?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Ryan said. Theo looked down at the books in his hands, out the window, to Ryan and then back at his hands. 

“I’m gay.” He said. 

“Oh,” Ryan said, sitting on his desk and puffing his cheeks out. “Cool.” 

Theo’s hands had started to shake, minutely, and he sat down in his chair with a thump. Ryan blinked at him.

“Am I the first person you’ve told?”

“…yeah.” Theo said. 

“Oh, shit,” Ryan muttered. “That’s fine. That’s cool.”

“I just – you know, with you and Professor Madej, I figured you’d get it-” Theo said. 

“Me and Professor Madej?” 

“Yeah,” Theo said, looking up at him. “You know. You guys…hang out. A lot.” 

“Um. We’re just friends.” Ryan said, and Theo’s face fell. “Look, I’m still glad that you felt comfortable enough to tell me.”

“Merlin, I feel like a fool,” Theo muttered.

“It’s fine, dude,” Ryan said. “And for, uh, what it’s worth, you’ll be fine too.” 

“Thanks.” Theo said stiffly. “I’m gonna – go.” 

He grabbed his stuff and dashed from the room. 

“I’m here if you want to talk!” Ryan shouted after him. 

When he opened his desk drawer to pull out the marking he still had to do for the day, his vision was drawn by the glossy purple envelope. He pulled it out, looked at it, and then threw it on the fire, watching it curl up and turn to ash.


	28. Avoidance Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so sorry that I accidentally took a hiatus that lasted longer than a month - I've just been in a total incurable writing funk, but we're back babyyyy! Hopefully we'll be back to regular Tuesdays now, love you all xx
> 
> A disclaimer: I'm very aware that Shane's parents irl are nothing like the way they are depicted here, but I don't think anyone is even pretending that these guys are anything like the real Ryan and Shane anymore. Fiction is fun and I'm sure Shane's parents are lovely.
> 
> Shout out to Soph and Lud bc they're great cheerleaders.

He found Devin in the Hospital Wing in her blue Healer’s robes, sitting and reading a book whilst a student vomited repeatedly into a bucket. 

“Have you ever heard of someone, like…not being good at magic? Medically?”

“Um,” Devin said, closing her book and looking up at him. “Maybe? What were you thinking?” 

“Are there conditions that people can get?” 

“No,” Devin said, “but magical ability is pretty susceptible to, like, mental state. I’ve read that people can suffer from psychosomatic issues.”

“What does psychosomatic mean?” 

“It means that if someone, say, suffers a trauma of some sort, it can lead to a subconscious suppression, you know? You ever hear of Ariana Dumbledore?” 

“Am I gonna become an Obscurial?!” Ryan blurted and then clapped his hands over his mouth. Devin blinked at him then glanced over at the student next to her, who was too busy throwing up to even notice that Ryan was there. 

“Have you…suffered some kind of trauma?” She asked in a soft voice.

“I – I have to go,” Ryan said, dashing from the room before Devin could stop him. Outside, he leaned against the wall, pressing his hands into his eyes and trying to calm his frantic breathing. When he had redeemed some semblance of cool, he stood up straight again and hurried down the corridor. He almost ran straight into Shane, who was coming around the corner.

“Hey Ryan, what’s up?” He asked, reaching out and steadying him. “One of my students managed to curse themselves. They’ve been throwing up in the hospital wing for three straight hours.”

“Cool,” Ryan said, smiling weakly. 

“Everything okay?” Shane said, cocking his head. 

“Yeah, I…” Ryan looked around, the words subconsciously suppressing still stuck in his head. “I don’t suppose you have any time free for some more duelling practice?”

Shane raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Um, yeah, I think I could manage that. It would have to be after the weekend, my…parents are coming to visit.”

“Oh,” Ryan said. “That’s nice.” 

“Yeah,” Shane said, nodding his head. “Nice. Monday night?” 

“Sure,” Ryan said, and smiled at him again before pushing past him and hurrying down the corridor. 

He returned to his classroom and paused when he picked up his tarot cards, left out on the desk. He remembered when he had been given them – Miss Pina, the dark-haired Divination teacher, had pressed them into his hands on the day of his graduation from the Belasco School of Magic. 

“You’re going to be great, Ryan,” She had whispered warmly, clasping one trembling hand between both of hers before moving on to congratulate other students. 

He also remembered his interview with Madame Radkiel – “Christian name Angela Barnes, but that’s not great for business” – and how he’d shuffled his cards for her, the same way he’d shown Ronnie and Theo.  
“It says here you completed teacher training,” She had run one gnarled finger down his resume. “This isn’t a teaching job.” 

“I decided teaching wasn’t for me,” Ryan said. The lie came easily, as it had in the hundreds of interviews he’d had over the last few months. His wand was safely tucked away in his bag, out of sight. She had offered him the job, somewhat begrudgingly, the next day. 

He had used a set of cards loaned to him by Radkiel when he was working with the No Majs who patronised the shop. They had felt awkward in his hands, and told him ugly lies about his future like sudden and inconvenient illness, or a greatly increased prospects of toe-stubbing. But he didn’t want to use the cards that Pina had given him in the shop – they still held that gleam of her whisper to him on graduation. 

He shook his head and put the cards back in their box, carefully placing them back above the fireplace. Professor McGonagall had tactfully skipped over his record when he had Flooed her to interview for the position at Hogwarts, muttering something about werewolves and “what Dumbledore would have done.” The school was a fresh start. 

His next trip into Hogsmeade to phone his brother was also a student’s weekend; he was accompanied by shrieking teenagers on the road all the way from Hogwarts to the village. The weather was becoming milder all the time, and Ryan took his jacket off and slung it over his arm as he walked. He found a secluded spot and dialled Jake. 

“You’ve reached the better Bergara brother,” Jake answered. 

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Ryan grumbled.

“You know it’s true. What’s new, Professor B?” 

“Yeah, so…you remember that thing that happened, when I was sixteen?” 

“By that thing, do you mean having the absolute shit beaten out of you and me heroically rushing you to the hospital, thereby saving your life?” 

“A. I was fine and B. You called Mom and she rushed me to the hospital.” 

“You were not fine.”

“Anyway,” Ryan spoke over him. “That might be why I’m bad at magic.”

“Oh, word?” 

“Yeah. It’s a, uh, trauma response. I’ve been told.” 

“Cool. So, you need to see like, a therapist? Which is not news to me, by the way.”

“I don’t think wizards have therapists,” Ryan said. 

“Big fucking surprise,” Jake sighed. 

“So what’s up with you?” Ryan asked. 

“Not much. School is wicked hard. Why are teeth so complicated? All they have to do is bite things?” 

“I…can’t relate,” Ryan said, relaxing into listening to his brother babble about dental school, California, their parents. It was familiar. Comforting. 

Once Jake had rung off, he began to stomp back up to the school through the Hogsmeade main street but was accosted by an extremely well-dressed trio coming the other way. 

“Hi, Ryan,” Shane said, face screwed up against the bright, cold sunlight shining on the village. He was wearing immaculate navy-blue robes over a high-collared, old-fashioned shirt. The pair accompanying him were an older woman with carefully coiffed silver hair and fur-trimmed gloves and a man as tall as Shane with expensive leather shoes and his hands crossed behind his back. 

“Mum, Dad, this is Professor Ryan Bergara,” Shane said, gesturing between Ryan and his parents. Mr Madej stepped forward and shook Ryan’s hand firmly, looking him up and down. 

“A pleasure, Professor. Good to see some young blood at Hogwarts. I understand you’re from the States?” 

“Uh, yes Sir. Call me Ryan.” Ryan said, swallowing. He was very tall and very thin, and unlike Shane he carried himself ramrod straight, such as to make the tallness much more obvious. 

“Shane has told us all about you,” Mrs Madej placed a hand fondly on Shane’s shoulder. Whilst her husband’s accent was upper-class English, hers was American. Chicago, though Ryan couldn’t be sure. 

“…great,” Ryan said, and she laughed throatily. 

“So what do your parents do, Ryan?” Mr Madej asked, and Ryan noticed Shane’s jaw tighten. 

“They’re both dentists.” Ryan said, and Madej’s eyebrows flew upwards. 

“Oh, interesting, interesting,” Madej rubbed his hands together. “What did you say you teach?” 

“Divination,” Ryan said, steeling himself for the inevitable.

“Well, that makes sense,” Madej said, giving Ryan a thin-lipped smile. Ryan blinked. Before he could ask what he meant, Madej said “We’d better get going, son. A pleasure, Professor.” 

Ryan nodded and the three Madejs carried on walking past him down the street. He turned to watch them go, and saw Shane say something to his parents before detaching himself and walking back towards Ryan. 

Ryan looked around frantically and threw himself into the nearest shop, hiding behind a stack of junk as far from the door as possible. He saw Shane walk past the window, glance around, then shake his head and turn back towards the village. 

Ryan scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing in relief at having extricated himself from the situation. He realised he was in some kind of antiques shop with grubby walls and cramped ceilings. Something went clunk when he moved his foot, and he looked down to see an ancient gramophone. The idea shot through him so fast he thought people might have seen a lightbulb over his head. He carried it back up to the castle carefully, getting some odd looks from the students returning at the same time. 

He knocked on the door of Classroom 4B, letting himself in carefully. Professor Cariad McLaggen was picking up her books from her desk. 

“Hey Ryan, what’s up?” She asked, cheerily. She was a dark-skinned woman with skinny wrists and a wide smile. 

“Can you recommend me some reading on enchanting Muggle things?” He asked. 

“Professor, you know that enchanting things is outlawed by the Ministry,” She said, with an impish smile.

“Hey, I just wanna read about it, doesn’t mean I have plans to do it,” Ryan said. 

“I’ll cut you a deal,” She said, picking up the books from her desks. “You come and talk to my class about Muggle culture in America and I’ll get you a book.” 

“No problem,” Ryan said. 

“Great,” She said, carrying her stack of books briskly out the room and towards the library. “Hey, do you know anything about video games?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan said, following behind her. 

“Perfect.” 

He was finished that night, stepping back from the gramophone and wiping his hand over his brow. It had taken several spells, on a couple of attempts each, but finally he took one of his records out of their protective sleeves and carefully set it onto the turntable. With a burst of static, Roy Orbison began to play from the speaker, tinny, but definitely listenable. 

He whooped in triumph and ran down to the hospital wing, grabbing Devin by the sleeve and dragging her back up to the tower. She stared at the gramophone in astonishment. 

“Is this…illegal?” She asked.

“I dunno,” Ryan shrugged. “Do you like it?” 

“Hell yeah,” Devin said, doing a fun little shimmy. “It’s given me an idea.”


	29. Goodbye Maisie

Shane was as good as his word and showed up at the door to Ryan’s classroom on Monday evening at 7pm on the dot. 

“What’s up?” 

Ryan had changed into an old jumper and his sweatpants after dinner, and he thought he saw Shane’s eyes flicker downwards as he let him into the classroom. 

He waved his wand and Ryan watched his desks fly to the four corners of the room. Sara Rubin sauntered into her portrait and watched idly as he took off his blue robes and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The last remains of the late evening sun were spilling through the diamond pane windows, casting long shadows across the floors. 

“I guess we’ll try another drill?” Shane said. He ran through a sequence of casting a Shield Charm, undoing it and then casting _Expelliarmus_. Ryan puffed his cheeks out, shaking his shoulders to try and loosen up before copying Shane. 

“Right, good. Defensive stance, then pull it back, then forward into the disarm.” Shane said. “Now try actually casting the spells.” 

Ryan sighed and went through the drill; the Shield Charm actually stayed in place until he revoked it, which gave him some hope, but the _Expelliarmus_ charm did nothing. His body felt sluggish and heavy as he tried to move from the defensive to the attack the way Shane had shown him. 

He looked up at Shane and saw him watching. “Well, go on then, I know you’re waiting to do it perfectly.”

“There’s no need to get snippy,” Shane said mildly. Ryan narrowed his eyes at him; there was something off about the way he was watching him. 

Time slowed.

Shane smirked, just slightly. His fingers twitched, and Ryan dived for the ground as a curse flew over his head. He heard it hit the wall behind him with a crack and he rolled over, scrambling to his feet and turning to face Shane. 

Defend

Shane pushed forward again, feet sliding gracefully over the uneven wooden floor and Ryan blocked the hex that he shot at him. The air around him had turned thick and treacly, time slowing to a trickle. He saw the subtle shifts in Shane’s stance, the sunlight playing across the angles in his face. Shane tried to curse him once more, and Ryan blocked it once more, and Shane shouted “do it! Do the drill! _Repulso!_ ”

Ryan cast a Shield, thwarting Shane’s curse, before pulling it back and whipping his wand at Shane’s and shouting “ _Expelliarmus!_ ” 

Shane’s wand flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor by the fireplace. The room was very quiet, until Sara Rubin started a slow clap. Shane stuck a fist in the air and whooped, as Ryan put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. 

“What the fuck, dude?” He demanded. “What did you attack me for?”

“I was proving a theory,” Shane said, and as he bent down to retrieve his wand Ryan cast a Shoving Charm at him. He was bowled over onto his back, where he just lay back and laughed. 

“Proving a theory,” Ryan huffed, stomping over and reaching out a hand. Shane grabbed it and hauled himself to his feet, still giggling. He swayed close into Ryan’s personal space as he did so, making his breath hitch. 

“I oughta-” Ryan started, but he was interrupted by a chill running down his spine. The sun finally set, the last traces of sunshine vanishing from the room, and he turned to face the bedroom. 

“What’s going on?” Shane asked, and Ryan reached up a hand to quiet him. He moved from the classroom into the bed chamber beyond, where the sun had vanished from behind the diamond-paned windows altogether, leaving the room dark and cold. The bed was unmade, and Ryan’s books were scattered across the floor. He was too focused to feel embarrassed about it. 

“Lumos,” Ryan muttered, and his wand lit up unusually bright. He heard the floorboards creak as Shane followed him into the room, eyes squinting against the glow of Ryan’s wand. 

With a soft wail, Maisie seemed to slide into being from between the floorboards, her missing hand outstretched in pleading. 

“Ryan-” Shane gulped, but Ryan ignored him. He had been waiting for the girl to appear again, because this time he was ready. 

“What’s keeping you here?” Ryan asked, stepping forward. Maisie just sobbed and cried _Shane!_ in a distant voice. 

Ryan heard a clatter from behind him and he turned to see that Shane had dropped his wand and was backing up, face deathly white. Strangely, this only steeled Ryan's resolve; if he had been alone, he would have run, but if Shane was here then Ryan was going to stay. 

“Maisie,” Shane muttered, empty hands clenching and unclenching. “Merlin’s beard.”

“It’s okay, dude, she’s not real,” Ryan said. 

“You – you weren’t imagining it,” Shane said, swallowing hard. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Ryan said. 

Maisie began to gasp and gulp, clutching at her throat like she couldn’t breathe, and she cried _Shane!_ again. Ryan _felt_ , felt her sadness and her fear.

“What do you want?” Ryan asked her again, and then she seemed to vanish, sliding beneath the floorboards once more. “Goddamnit. She’s gone again.”

“Doesn’t seem like a bad thing,” Shane said behind him, sounding somewhat hoarse. 

“If I don’t find out what’s wrong, she’ll keep coming back!” Ryan exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. Shane had backed up until he hit the wall, and he slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

“Maisie…” He muttered, a dazed look in his eyes. “Is she always like that? Like she’s – she’s drowning?” 

“No,” Ryan said, pacing back and forth in front of the bed. “She always calls for you.” 

“Fucking hell, Ryan,” Shane put his face in his hands. 

“And…” Ryan continued, “She always appears in the same way. She like, rises out of the floor. And…” 

He had a fleeting sensation of a dream, another life, in which he had been struck by the sensation that there was something – he fell to his knees and began scrabbling at the floorboards, Shane watching him in astonishment. 

One of the floorboards came loose under his hands, and he craned his neck down to see a gap between the wooden boards and the stone underneath that was full of bones; specifically, the bones of a human hand. 

Ryan dropped the board he was holding in his hand and scrambled backwards, practically yelping with shock. Shane clambered to his feet, came over and looked into the alcove before Ryan could stop him and retched, stumbling past Ryan and into the bathroom. 

“What the fuck, dude. What the fuck.” Ryan chanted over and over. Eventually, the two calmed down, and Ryan hauled himself to his feet. 

“Well, that explains…that. I think.”

“What do we do with it?” Shane said hoarsely. 

“If my ghost lore is up to scratch, then we gotta, uh, gotta bury it, I think,” Ryan said, scratching his head. 

“Oh god,” Shane muttered, and retched again. “That’s – that’s Maisie. That’s my friend.” 

Ryan reached out with a shaking wand hand and levitated the bones out of their hole. They were old and worn, jumbled together like someone had thrown them there carelessly. He placed them in a bag and held the bag away from him carefully. 

“Let’s go.” 

Shane disenchanted the door to the Entrance Hall with a careful hand, and the two of them made their way out into the grounds. Ryan stopped, taken by a sensation in his gut. The bag of motherfucking bones in his hands was making his senses go absolutely wild. 

It was a miserable night; the wind whipped Ryan’s hair back and forth, and he had to squint against the smattering of cold rain that was blowing across the grounds. 

“Do you know where Maisie is buried?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

“We gotta go there.” 

They stumbled out past the gates to the grounds, Shane reached out a hand to grasp Ryan by a shoulder and the two Apparated to a small and quiet graveyard on the outskirts of a small and quiet village. They were standing precisely in front of a modest marker with _Maisie MacTavish, 1985-2002_ engraved on it. The sky overhead was deep, velvet blue. It was a nice spot. 

Ryan waved his wand, intending to lift a chunk of earth that would allow them to bury the hand, and nothing happened. 

“Can’t cast magic on grave dirt,” Shane said. He waved his own wand and a spade zoomed into his hand. Silently, the two of them took turns digging until there was a hole large enough to set the hand in. 

“Do you – wanna say anything?” Ryan said. 

Shane stood and stared down into the hole with the bones in it for a long time. Eventually he cleared his throat and said, in a hoarse voice, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Ryan said nothing. They covered the hole over and apparated back to the gates, meandering back up to the castle in the chill night air. Ryan’s legs felt slow, heavy with the weight of what they had done. The rain was starting to trickle down the back of his neck. 

In the Entrance Hall, Shane set the curfew spells back on the doorway before they were accosted by a dark figure with a yellow bruise over one eye.

“Where have you been?” Lara Borden asked, breath-takingly cold. 

“Who’s asking?” Shane said gruffly. 

“Shane,” Ryan hissed. 

“I feel like Professor McGonagall will be disappointed to hear that a teacher had bypassed her enchantments in order to break the curfew she imposed,” Lara said frostily. “She’ll probably be pretty grumpy at being woken up, too. What were you two doing?”

“Listen, Lara-” Shane started. 

“Canoodling.” Ryan said abruptly.

“Canoodling?!” Lara and Shane both exclaimed at once. 

“Mmhmm.” Ryan nodded. “Fooling around. You know.”

“In…in the rain?” Lara asked.

“Yup.” Ryan said. 

Both Shane and Lara stared at him, dumbfounded. Eventually, Lara muttered something vaguely embarrassed and hurried up the stairs to the second floor. 

Ryan turned to Shane, feeling incredibly sheepish. “I’m really sorry, man, I just wanted to get her off our back and totally panicked-”

“It’s okay-”

“It was just gonna look so bad if it came out we were burying a _hand-_ ”

“It’s fine-”

“I’m very aware that we are just friends-”

“Ryan, shut up, it’s fine.” Shane finally managed to interrupt him. “Whatever, it worked. I wanna go to bed.” 

When they reached the third-floor classroom, Shane stopped and scratched the back of his neck without going inside.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you? And Maisie?" Ryan blurted. Shane huffed, looking down at the floor and then out the window. 

"I don't know, Ryan. Goodnight.” He said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “Night.”

Shane nodded, and then took himself into the Defence quarters. Ryan made his way back up the stairs, noting as he entered the Divination classroom that the entire area seemed a little lighter, a little freer of shadows. 

“Bye Maisie,” He said to the empty room. “I didn’t sign up for a roommate.” 

“Me neither, but here we are,” Sara Rubin said from her portrait. Ryan scowled at her and went to bed.


	30. Staff Meeting

He was awoken the next morning by someone kicking his classroom door open. He shot upright, scrambling around for his robes and stumbling through, fully expecting to see Aurors back to outright arrest him this time, but it was just Devin. 

“Lara just told me you were on a _date_ with Shane Madej?!” 

“Jesus, Devin, volume,” Ryan muttered, rubbing at his sleep-filled eyes. “What time is it?” 

“You haven’t missed breakfast.” Devin said, bouncing up and down on her heels. 

“Please listen to me,” Ryan said. “I was not on a date with Shane. He helped me out with something. That happened to be out in the grounds. And we ran into Lara coming back. And I didn’t particularly feel like explaining myself. So, I made something up.” 

“Agh,” Devin exclaimed, collapsing into one of the armchairs by the fire. “Nothing exciting ever happens at this school!”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Ryan said, holding his hands up. 

“I have to get back, there’s a really sick student,” Devin sighed, getting to her feet.

“Did you abandon a patient to come up here and mine me for gossip?” Ryan asked. 

“Yeah, that’s totally what I did,” Devin said. She stopped by the door, seeming engrossed by something on the door frame. “You know, that thing you mentioned to me the other day…”

Ryan said nothing, suddenly very interested in examining his hands. 

“I’m here if you want to talk. We all got our…stuff. When I first arrived in the UK, well, some stuff happened to me. I was messed up for a while. But talking to people, building a support network, that’s how people heal. There’s no magical shortcut.”

“You mean,” Ryan said. “That the real magic is the friendship we made along the way?” 

Devin cackled, leaning over and bracing herself on the door frame. “Yeah, that’s the real magic.” 

That night, at dinner, Shane avoided eye contact with him; Ryan took it on the chin and sat next to Devin and Kristin, who were chatting happily about the new Celestina Warbeck album.

“What do you think, Ryan?” Devin asked, smiling at him, and Ryan felt a growing warmth in the pit of his stomach. 

“That old crone is still making music?” He asked, and Devin clapped her hands over her mouth whilst Kristin giggled delightedly. 

“How dare you?! She is a national treasure,” Devin said, swatting him with her wand. 

“Alright, alright, she’s a national treasure,” Ryan said, holding his hands up in defence before digging into his mashed potatoes. 

Ryan spent the next day going over palmistry with the OWL students, pairing them up and telling them to read each other’s palms with assistance from their books. 

“Professor, what does it mean if my life line just stops?!” Rachel Chang gasped. 

“It’s not literally how long you’ll live, it’s like, the amount of hash-tag living you do.” Ryan said.

“What’s a hash tag?” She asked.

“The life-line stopping or being crooked usually means you’re going to have a fresh start at some point.” Ryan sighed.

A boy with blonde hair was bent low over Evie’s hand. “You have a pretty deep head line. That means…you love to learn.”

“Well. I am in Ravenclaw,” She said, making a face. 

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” 

When Theo and Ronnie came for their lesson in the afternoon, Theo studiously ignored his gaze, but some colour had returned to his cheeks since Ryan had last seen him. 

His work that evening was interrupted by a knock at the door and Devin breezing in without giving him time to answer. She was carrying a canvas shopping bag over her arm. 

“Grab the gramophone, I have a plan.” She said, and Ryan did as she asked without questioning it. 

“What have you got in there?” He asked. She pulled out a brightly coloured cardboard sleeve and waved it at him.

“A friend owled them from London. You’re in for a treat!” 

They rounded the corner onto the third-floor corridor and ran into Shane coming the other way in his shirt sleeves and a fine blue waistcoat. 

“Professor Madej!” Devin cried, spinning to grin wickedly at Ryan. “You have to come with us. There’s a staff meeting.” 

“I didn’t hear anything from Professor McGonagall-” Shane said, brow furrowing, but Devin simply cried “Staff meeting!” and grabbed him by the wrist, towing him and Ryan down to the first floor with her canvas bag flying behind her. 

She knocked rapidly three times on the door to an empty classroom and Kristin poked her head out, ushering them inside. Devin turned to the door and tapped the knob with her wand, muttering “muffliato!” under her breath. Ryan put the gramophone down in the corner, Devin put the first record onto it, and Ryan tapped it with his wand. 

Vaguely blurry synthesiser began to filter from the speaker, and Devin crowed. 

“Love this song,”

_I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say…_

Devin leapt over to where Kristin was, and the two began to dance, Kristin shimmying her shoulders back and forth. 

_Can’t start a fire, can’t start a fire without a spark…_

There was a scuffling in the corridor and the two women looked up, but it was only Cariad McLaggen poking her head round the door.

“You told me to meet you guys here?” She held up a bottle of Firewhiskey and slipping inside; she was followed by Daphne Hagrid, looking very tall compared to Cariad. 

“Nice,” Kristin said, hugging Cariad and pouring glasses. “Drink up, Ryan,” 

Ryan did as he was told, and shivered as the warm whiskey settled in his stomach. Shane was standing on the side-lines watching, a little awkwardly, and when Kristin firmly pushed a glass into his hands he accepted it but made no move to drink it. 

“Loosen up, Shane!” Devin knocked back her glass without flinching and grabbed Shane by the wrist, dragging him into the group of dancing women. She whispered something in Kristin’s ear and the two women looked up at Ryan and began to giggle. He flushed, and turned to dance with Cariad, who tossed her curly black hair over her shoulder. Devin waved her wand at the record player and the disc was replaced with another; a Celestina Warbeck song began to play. It was jazzy and fast-paced, a piano player improvising over a constant double-bass. 

“Jeez, not this old hag,” Ryan wrinkled his nose, and Cariad poked him in the arm.

“She’s a national treasure!”

Devin was swinging Shane’s hands between her own and Shane was laughing awkwardly, bobbing his head around to the music. In one smooth movement, Devin spun him around and sent him crashing into Ryan with a yelp. 

“Careful there, big guy,” Ryan said, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him. When he turned away, Cariad had mysteriously vanished, so Ryan shrugged and turned back to dance with Shane. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Devin wave her wand and the song changed again. Ryan heard a slower beat come sputtering out of the speakers and narrowed his eyes.

_In the ground we buried the seeds of our pear tree…_

Shane dropped his hands and just stood awkwardly. Ryan didn’t know what to do now that the song was too slow to really dance to with friends. 

“Gosh, guys, do you really hate each other that much?” Kristin called, and Ryan looked over to see that Devin, Kristin, Cariad and Daphne had all paired off and were slow-dancing, giggling to themselves. 

Devin levelled her gaze at Ryan over Kristin’s shoulder in a silent challenge, and he made a face at her before resolutely planting his hands on Shane’s shoulders. 

_May I have this dance, to make it up to you…_

“I’ve got two left feet,” Shane muttered, staring at the smooth stone floor of the classroom. Devin and Kristin were attempting to waltz to a song that was not a waltz, falling over, and laughing wildly. 

Shane put his hands on Ryan’s waist and the two swayed on the spot. 

“So how was your day?” Ryan asked, unsure what to do with himself. 

“Pretty boring,” Shane said, looking somewhere over Ryan’s shoulder. “Hey, how did you get the record player to work here?” 

“You’re just gonna tell on me to the Ministry,” Ryan said, and Shane’s eyes met his as he huffed out a laugh. 

“Not my department.” 

_We are bound to inherit the sins of our parents…_

“I’ve never really…listened to Muggle music,” Shane said, a little dreamy. 

“Do you like it?” Ryan asked, unconsciously smoothing his hands over the rich silk of Shane’s waist-coat. He could see the bob of Shane’s throat as he swallowed. 

“Yeah. I do.” Shane said, looking down at him. 

Ryan was overcome with the sensation of the room, the music and the Firewhiskey getting to him a little. Ghosts were crowding round him; over Shane’s shoulder, he saw a bushy brown-haired girl throw a cushion at a boy with black hair, and the boy deflect it with a Shield Charm. The two laughed, before they dissipated and were replaced with a young woman with black hair pacing up and down chewing on her fingernails. Ryan shivered, and Shane noticed him staring at something only he could see. 

“Why do you…do that?” Shane asked. 

“What?” Ryan said, still looking over his shoulder at the young woman. She was too old to be a student, but didn’t seem old enough to be a teacher. She looked familiar, the longer Ryan stared at her. She buried her face in her hands. 

“It’s like you go somewhere else.” Shane said, “Or you’re looking at something that only you can see.” 

“I’m not crazy,” Ryan said sharply, looking up at Shane. 

“I didn’t say that,” Shane said, rubbing a thumb in small circles over Ryan’s hip almost unconsciously. “Just making an observation.”

Ryan said nothing for a long time, the music bleeding between them.

_Give me one more chance, give me one more chance, give me one more... ___

__“It’s nothing. Just thinking.” He finally said._ _

__“Okay then,” Shane said, sighing._ _

__“Make sure you leave room for Merlin, kids,” Devin said as she and Kristin waltzed past and Shane flushed. The song changed again to something more upbeat, and Ryan dropped his hands from around Shane’s neck before he realised the speed at which he had done it might have been taken as insulting._ _

__“Um,” He stammered before darting over to the bottle of Firewhiskey and pouring himself a slug._ _

__“Give me one of the same,” Shane said over his shoulder as he rolled up his shirt-sleeves. “I’ve given up on finishing my marking.”_ _

__Ryan handed him a glass and he knocked it back in one go before unbuttoning the front of his waistcoat and joining the four women, who had formed a loose circle. Ryan shrugged before doing the same. Shane met his eyes and winked before taking Devin by the hand and twirling her round, his earlier awkwardness forgotten._ _

__The windows of the empty classroom were growing dark as the impromptu party carried on late into the night, and eventually the six young teachers found themselves sitting in a circle as the music played on quietly in the background. Ryan’s eyes were glazing over; his head felt like it was full of cotton wool. He kept meeting Shane’s eyes, and he could not tell whether the other man was staring at him or just coincidence._ _

__“Ryan,” Devin said, reaching over and grabbing him by the arm. “You have to tell our futures.”_ _

__“I don’t have to do anything,” Ryan said, laughing._ _

__“Pleeeeaaaasssse,” She said. “Tell my future.”_ _

__“Fine,” Ryan huffed, taking her palm in his. “You’re going to have six children.”_ _

__She immediately snatched her hand back. “Please tell me you’re joking, Ryan, I swear to God.”_ _

__“Just kidding,” He said, holding his hands up._ _

__“Can you tell my future?” Cariad held her hand out excitedly. Ryan examined the palm of her hand, admiring the deep grooves he saw there. There was something expressive about the palm of a hand that no-one seemed to really appreciate, he thought; no wonder palmists believed that the past and the trajectory of someone’s life was etched there._ _

__“You fall in love easily and often,” He said finally, and she pursed her lips. “You only decided to become a teacher recently.”_ _

__“True on both. Well, the first one seems sort of subjective.” She said._ _

__He read Kristin and Daphne’s palms, and then, working hard to ignore Devin jerking her head towards Shane, he made a big show of yawning and stretching his arms over his head._ _

__“I’d better get to bed,” He said, clambering to his feet._ _

__“Me too,” Shane said, also getting up. “Good night guys. Thanks for inviting me along.”_ _

__The two men wandered back up the stairs to the third floor corridor, Shane’s robes over his arm and Ryan’s hair mussed, and when they reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom Ryan said “walk me back to the 12th floor?” He supposed he could blame the lack of inhibitions on the whiskey, but he felt that they were still there; they had merely become warning road signs instead of barriers against oncoming trains._ _

__Shane nodded, eyes bright in the flickering candle-light, and they carried on walking, Shane’s hands shoved firmly into his pockets. When they reached the Divination Tower, Shane simply nodded and turned to go._ _

__Ryan, feeling that he had been cursed by a spectre of the school healer who hissed _give him a chance!_ at him even when she was not there, blurted “do you want a cup of tea?” _ _

__Shane’s eyes snapped up to his. “Sure,” he said._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song Shane and Ryan dance to is May I Have This Dance by Francis and the Lights. The lyrics just sound exactly like something they would say to the other, so I couldn't resist.


	31. The Two of Swords

Ryan pushed backwards into the classroom, a ritual gesture of invitation that had no basis in anything except his own anxieties. His head was still loose and fuzzy. The fire sprang into life with a flick of his wand, and he pushed the kettle into place. It felt right, to wait for it to boil. 

“How’s Defence Against the Dark Arts going?” Ryan asked.

“It’s going,” Shane hummed. “You know, I’m not sure how…wild I am about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…teaching this stuff to children. This stuff that I did.” Shane said, apparently a hundred miles away. “Doesn’t always feel right.”

“But you’re going to help them,” Ryan said, and Shane looked up at him and then away again.

“Maybe,” He said. His face was cast into shadow by the flickering firelight.

The kettle began to boil, and Ryan poured out two mugs of tea. He sat on the couch in front of the fire and Shane joined him. He sipped at his tea quietly, the silence stretching to breaking point before Ryan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Do wizards believe in aliens?”

Shane sputtered, inhaling some of his hot water before setting his cup down.

“Where did that come from?”

“I was just – wondering,” Ryan said, flushing. The room was slowly spinning in his peripheral vision.

“I, uh…considering how much wizards manage to hide from Muggles without their notice, it wouldn’t surprise me if aliens had visited.”

“Aliens don’t have magic spells though.” Ryan countered.

“You’re presuming an awful lot about aliens – nope, nah, my brain can’t cope with the concept of magic aliens. I’m stopping this conversation here.”

Ryan laughed, taking a sip of tea and willing it to sober him up a little.

“Hey, you didn’t read my palm earlier,” Shane said, conversationally.

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t like feeling left out.”

Ryan took a deep breath and shuffled closer to Shane, taking his right hand in his. It was large and elegantly formed, with long fingers and prominent knuckles. When Ryan’s hand closed around his wrist, he thought he heard Shane intake a sharp breath, but maybe he was imagining things.

“You have…a long life-line. I think this crooked bit here is when you changed career. Stuff like that lingers in the palm of your hand.” He said. “There’s another crooked bit here though. Did you have any other jobs?”

“Don’t think so,” Shane shrugged.

“Then that’s an upheaval ahead. And I think there’s a romance here.”

“Romance?” Shane said.

“Yeah-” Ryan said, pressing his thumb into Shane’s palm to show him the line and looking up to find Shane staring at him intensely. He was suddenly hyper-aware of all the points at which his hands were touching Shane’s skin; the collar of his shirt felt too tight.

“Romance with who?” Shane asked.

“I – I dunno,” Ryan said, annoyed at how breathless he sounded. He could hear the sea roaring in his ears; he wanted to know what Shane’s voice felt like on his skin.

“Ryan,” Shane said. Ryan felt his arm move and realised Shane had turned his hand over, clasping Ryan’s hand in his without him noticing and drawing him closer.

“Shane,” Ryan said, eyes flickering down to his lips without his say-so.

 _“Ryan,”_ Shane repeated back to him, smirking a little at the back and forth.

He looked up briefly and caught a glimpse of Sara Rubin's portrait over the back of the couch and suddenly he heard Borden's voice in his head. 

"Shane was the only witness"

_Opposites attract._

Shane’s eyes were slipping closed and Ryan was leaning almost involuntarily, magnetised by some force that was beyond his control or ken.

_Beware infatuation._

Ryan froze, and Shane noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, and Ryan felt the blood rush back into his head so fast his ears nearly popped. 

“I – I don’t think I can do this,” He shuffled backwards and off the sofa, almost falling, sending the tea-cups smashing onto the ground.

“What? You – you invited me in,” Shane said, bewildered. His face was flushed.

"Yeah, well, I've changed my mind. I'm allowed." Ryan said, more harshly than he would have liked.

"What?" Shane said, hands clenching apparently of their own volition.

“It’s not – I know you killed a man,” Ryan said desperately, trying to find something to do with his hands that wasn’t wring them. Shane flinched backwards at his words. “I can’t do this when there’s so much you’re not telling me. All I know is what other people tell me, what other people _warn_ me about. Can you understand why that’s unsettling?!”

 _“Reparo,”_ Shane said and put the teacups back together, only for Ryan to dash to them to the floor again.

“You don’t need to do that! I don’t need help!”

Shane stared at him, mouth open, before grabbing for his robes, throwing them on haphazardly.

“I’m sorry if I...presumed too much. I overstepped,” He mumbled. “I’m just – I’m gonna go.”

Ryan said nothing, and Shane left with his head bowed. Ryan was suddenly struck with the terrible, sickening feeling that he had probably fucked up.

He sank back down onto the sofa with his head in his hands, watching the dying flames crackle and spit embers. He didn’t know how long he sat there before he stood and went to the box over the fireplace. The first card he drew was the Two of Swords; a blindfolded woman holding a blade in either hand, perfectly balanced, whilst a sickle moon shone down on her head.

“Ugh,” Ryan muttered. “Fine.”

He went to the door and pulled it open, only to reveal Shane sitting in the trap-door with his legs hanging down the ladder and staring at the floor. He started when Ryan opened the door, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“What are you sitting there for?” Ryan asked. 

“I was. Thinking.” Shane said. “And I’m still kinda drunk so the ladder...might not be a good idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “About before. I’m not being fair.”

“It’s okay,” Shane said, eyes cast down again.

“Come back inside?” Ryan said. Shane said nothing but hauled his long legs out from the well of the trapdoor and sat himself back down on the sofa, watching Ryan as he closed the door and then stood awkwardly in front of the fire.

“Do you not trust me?” Shane finally said, eyes unfathomable.

“I don’t feel like I can,” Ryan said. “I feel like you’re hiding things from me.”

It was quiet and almost suffocatingly warm in the tower room; the embers of the fire were burning low. The mix of Firewhiskey, unfulfilled desire, and confrontation was settling like a heavy weight in Ryan’s stomach.

“You’re hiding things from me too,” Shane said, finally looking up at Ryan with fathomless eyes. “It’s a two-way street, Ryan.”

The silence stretched out again like awkward elastic. Ryan felt the urge to blurt something stupid rising inside him, but for once in his life he managed to suppress it.

“I mean…you basically know all of it already. Everyone does. Everyone knows, and everything reminds me of it all the time.” Shane said. Ryan sighed and sat down next to him on the sofa. His limbs and eyelids were growing heavy. 

“I want to know your version of events. I want to know what you think.” Ryan said, and Shane blinked at him. “I…want to know you. I guess.”

Shane blinked again.

“No pressure though.” Ryan said, quickly. “We can just go. Slowly.”

Shane blinked a third time, sighed in a manner that was almost relief, and pressed his face into Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan was suddenly struck with the sensation that the two of them were alone in a bubble that was cut off from the outside world; it was just them, and the fire crackling, until the fire died and then they would be in the dark with only each other for company.

“I’m tired, Ryan,” Shane murmured. “This whole mysterious and aloof thing is hard work.”

“I’ve said it before but,” Ryan said, lifting a hand to press it gently against the back of Shane’s head and feeling the soft brown hair under his fingers. “People can change.”

The next morning, Ryan awoke with a terrible crick in his neck to a dying fire and an absent Shane. He stretched, wincing as his neck popped, and looked around. He had a vague memory of falling asleep with a head in his lap, playing with the fine brown hair as he slipped away, but the only hint that Shane had been here at all was the dirty tea cup on the table.

He took the ladder down to the 12th floor and from there down the stairs, too early in the morning for there to be students up and about. The door to Shane’s office was sitting slightly ajar, and Ryan slipped inside.

The office was empty, but Ryan noticed the cupboard containing the Pensieve was sitting half-open. He peered inside, seeing the swirling white mist inside, and paused. He remembered Shane’s face when he had nearly caught him using it the last time, and he made to shut the cupboard tight, but he realised there were voices emanating from the bowl. 

There was some yelling, a vague muttering, and then, clear as day, the Killing Curse – 

_“Avada Kedavra!”_ cried Shane’s voice.

Before he could even pause to consider his actions, he stuck his face into the basin, and was almost violently ill when he immediately found himself thrust into the perspective of someone running through a dark forest at full tilt.

He was tall, wearing dark red robes and leather vambraces, his wand clutched tightly in his right hand. He saw the long white fingers, the elegant knuckles, and realised he was Shane.  
The only sound in his ears was the pounding of his own heart, the harsh rasping of his own breathing as he pounded through the underbrush after his foe. In his peripheral vision was the occasional flash of another wizard wearing red, following him. His robes caught on a thorny bush and he tore them free, swearing under his breath.

The night was deathly still.

There was one thought in Shane’s mind: _finally._

A bird erupted out of the bushes ahead, but he did not even hesitate – batting it aside with a flick of his wand, he ploughed on, unrelenting.

He could hear a deep booming laugh ahead. Suddenly the trees opened out onto empty air as he reached the edge of a sharp cliff. There was a man standing there, a pale and burly man with a shaven head and hawk-like eyes. Shane kept running and hit the guy at full speed. The two were borne to the ground with an ear-splitting crash.

They struggled, Greengrass dropping his wand and grabbing Shane by the throat. Shane clawed at his hands before regaining control of his instincts and shooting a curse straight into Greengrass’ side; with a yelp he fell backwards and Shane leapt on top of him. He grabbed the wand before Greengrass could scrabble for it, and threw it over the cliff edge, and then with a grunt he pointed his own wand between Greengrass’ eyes.

“Surrender.” He said. “There’s nowhere else to go.”

“Are you here to get revenge on me?” Greengrass said. “You know, she screamed when I killed her. The sweetest sound; knowing I was finally getting revenge for the Dark Lord. There was nothing you could do then, and there will be nothing you can do now. She’s still dead, Madej.”

“She was my friend.” Shane said; he couldn’t stop himself, and the words came out plaintive and whining like a child’s. He hated it.

"She was a blood traitor." Greengrass said.

"Shut up." Shane hissed.

“Her father deserved it. And she deserved it.” Greengrass said.

The wand in Shane’s hand was shaking. _“Shut up.”_

Greengrass spat in Shane’s face and laughed.

There was a burning sensation rising in Shane’s chest. White noise was blaring in his ears, blocking out the sound of his heart, the sound of his thoughts, nothing but hot anger-

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

There was a flash of cold, green light, blinding, but Shane did not notice; he had been brought to his knees, overtaken by a sensation of falling and screaming and ending-

He felt the minute Darius Greengrass’ life left him, felt the emptiness creeping at the edge of himself, felt something inside him tear, and then he came to lying facedown in the grass, his wand still clutched in his hand and a body lying next to him. His eyes were open, but they were empty.

Someone came crashing out of the trees; Kelsey Impicicche ran to Shane, her red robes flying behind her.

“I – I saw the light,” She said, haltingly. “Shane. What did you do?”

“Ryan?” A voice said in his ear, and Ryan surfaced again. Shane was standing behind him, face carefully blank. He was still wearing the robes he had been when he arrived at Ryan’s classroom last night. The bags under his eyes were so deep they appeared to have been drawn on with purple marker.

“What are you doing?” He asked frostily.

“I-” Ryan stammered. He didn’t have much of an explanation.

“Tell me, Ryan,” Shane said, reaching out and fiddling with the ink pot on his desk. “Do you actually give a shit about my boundaries? Even a little? Or do you only care about fulfilling your own…detective fantasy.”

“Shane-” Ryan said, desperation swelling behind his ribs. His gut was churning with adrenaline, with the shame of being caught, and the lingering feeling of performing the Killing Curse that he had experienced in the Pensieve. He couldn't think of anything to say. 

“Get out,” Shane said quietly, pushing him aside and slamming the door to the cupboard shut. 

Ryan left without protesting, hurrying down the corridor until his knees grew weak and he had to reach out to put his hand on the wall to prevent himself falling.

The sense of death that had overcome him still lingered; the murder of it all. But even stronger than that, and sickeningly, Ryan could not push the thrill of performing magic easily from his mind. It did not matter that it had been the murder of an unarmed man: the sensation of the connections in his body lighting up one by one was almost intoxicating.

Shane was powerful. Ryan had liked it.

And everything was a little bit ruined.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always interested in constructive criticism - if you like, you can hit me up on [tumblr](https://www.thatmademadej.tumblr.com). Thanks for reading!


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